Resident Evil: The Gauntlet
by DarkSeraphim1
Summary: Set two years after RE4, we will find out why the government wanted Leon and Sherry. A renunion of characters from all main games, written before RE5 and the BSAA. HET/General. Rated 'M' for violence and language. Please, R&R.
1. Rockfort Island

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in the work below. If I did, RE4 would have had zombies instead of bugs!

Synopsis: T-virus, G-virus, T-Veronica virus, Las Plagas. . .you get the drift. (The first two sections are for all of you who missed Leon in CVX.) Beta'd once again by the incomparable Littlehouseinthewoods. Reuploaded from a soon-to-be defunct profile. Enjoy=)

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Resident Evil: The Gauntlet

Chapter One: Rockfort Island

It had happened, again, he thought as he clutched his handgun tighter and entered the next door. A long hallway stretched out before him, the large windows on either side giving it an eerie quality. Faint light prodded the darkness unsuccessfully from fixtures in the ceiling, leaving everything cast in shadow. He knew that there was little chance of escape from this place. The windows were more of a tease than anything else. They probably led to a lab where more mutated creatures were lying in wait. He didn't know for sure. He hadn't been allowed to go anywhere but here.

He'd woken up in a empty room, his head ringing, a nasty taste in his mouth. He had no idea where he was, or how he had gotten here. He'd found a gun, some ammunition, and a bottle of first aid spray. The accompanying note had simply read, "Survive". At least, the gun was his own Killer 7, his favorite .45. If he'd been left with his nine-millimeter, he'd be dead right now. The bioweapons he'd come across had been a strange menagerie of familiar creatures. He'd seen Hunters and Sweepers, Lickers and Crimson Heads, Novistadors, and some kind of giant frog. The frog, at least, had been new.

He hadn't found any keys, or extra ammo, or any conveniently misplaced files. All the locked doors he'd found had been electronically sealed, leaving him only one path to take. He had no idea what was going on, and for the first time in years, he was scared. He felt like a rat in a maze, and he wanted nothing more than to kill whoever had set this up, preferably before they killed him.

He started down the corridor slowly, his crystal blue gaze studying each window as he approached. Clearly, they were for observation purposes, and yet he could see nothing but his reflection. The interior of each room was cloaked in darkness, no movement or sound coming from beyond the glass. All he could hear was the echo of his own footsteps as he gradually made his way toward the double doors at the end. The almost complete lack of any sensory input was more than enough to set him on edge. He had survived things that would kill most ordinary people, but he was beginning to think he might not survive this.

Why the hell hadn't anything jumped out of one of the windows? he asked himself with a nervous glance over his shoulder. What was the point of this little game? To give him a coronary? Scare him to death, maybe? Well, if he didn't get a hold of himself, it was going to work. He couldn't let it end like this. He'd sacrificed too much, survived too long, to let some unseen enemy take him out now. He had nothing to live for, but plenty of reasons to keep his ass alive. He needed to remember that.

He stopped before the massive double doors and checked his gun. Only five in the chamber and another seven in the clip in his tactical vest. If he ran into a Tyrant or a Nemesis--or even worse, a Regenerator--he was totally screwed. He had no grenade launcher, no rocket launcher, and definitely no thermal scope. All he could do was draw a deep breath, pray to a god he was certain did not exist, and open the doors.

He stepped through and was immediately blinded. He raised an arm and held it before his eyes, automatically bringing the gun up. He couldn't see shit, and the click behind him told him that the only way out may have just been taken from him. He squinted and tried to search the room, but the light was everywhere. He couldn't pinpoint the source, and he was wasting precious seconds trying to.

"Who are you?" he yelled, flattening himself against the locked doors at his back. "What do you want from me?

A deep, truly evil laugh assaulted his ears, and he knew that he was in deep shit. "You have done well, Agent Kennedy. I didn't think you'd make it this far. Certainly, not past my Hunters."

Leon Scott Kennedy shifted slightly, aiming at the direction of that voice, even as he realized that he was probably locking onto a speaker. That smooth, not-quite-British sounding voice had a metallic quality to it, a small distortion that told him that whoever that voice belonged to wasn't in the room with him.

He focused on the disembodied voice's lasts words and managed a snort. "The Hunters were nothing," he said with a bravado he didn't feel. "Tell me where I am--Now."

"I don't think you're in a position to make demands," the voice said with amusement. "In fact, you seem to be completely at my mercy."

"Whatever," he responded, feigning boredom. "Are you going to tell me who I get the pleasure of killing, or are you just going to talk me to death?"

"Are you truly as confident as you appear--Leon?" That malevolent laugh sounded again, sending a chill up Leon's spine. "I believe you were right, my dear. I'll leave him in your more than capable hands."

The room was suddenly plunged into darkness, and Leon immediately squeezed his eyes shut. He put a hand against the door behind him and moved to the left. Probably a predictable move, but he knew better than to leave himself in a position that the enemy had already marked. He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly so that they would adjust to the darkness that much faster. He still couldn't make out much, but he could now tell that the room was much larger than he'd been expecting.

An indistinct shape loomed out of the shadows before him. "Running again, handsome?"

He went still for a long moment before exhaling harshly. "_Ada,_" he spat, the venom in his voice surprising them both. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Hello, Leon." The lights came on, and there she was, wearing the mysterious smile he had come to hate. "Long time, no see."

"Not long enough." Leon holstered the Killer 7 with careful movements, palming his survival knife as he did so. "To what do I owe this unexpected reunion?"

Ada Wong ignored the sarcasm dripping from his words as she took a step closer. "I needed to see you," she began, only to be cut off.

"You could have just called," he told her flatly. "Or better yet, broken into my apartment, again. Abducting me was _not_ necessary."

"Sorry, but that wasn't my call," she said with a shrug.

Leon fought the urge to plunge the knife deep in what passed for her heart. He'd been forced to deal with her for the past eight years. He'd probably have to endure her for many more. She held his _raison d'etre _in the palms of her slender, dangerous little hands, and she rarely let him forget it.

"What do you want?" he asked abruptly, unwilling to play her game any longer than necessary. "What's with you and the disembodied voice knocking me out and bringing me here to fight your little army of retro B.O.W.s?"

Her smile changed, becoming colder. "That 'disembodied voice' is the only reason you're still alive, handsome. He's also the reason you were forced to run the gauntlet that led you here. The price of admission," she added cryptically.

Leon fought to keep the anger out of his expression. He had once found Ada beautiful and exotic, a mystery that his younger self had longed to solve. It hadn't taken him long to see her for the cold, self-centered person that she truly was. He wanted nothing to do with her, and she was fully aware of it. She enjoyed forcing her presence on him, reminding him of all he had to lose, of all that _she_ could take from him with a single phone call.

Ada eyed him with wary blue eyes. "What? No snappy comeback?" she questioned with studied casualness. "I expected better from you, Leon."

"Admission to what?" he asked finally, knowing that if he didn't play along, she would make things very unpleasant for him.

"Why, to your life, of course." She sent him another mocking smile and extended her hand. She watched as his clear blue eyes dropped to the file folder in her hand. "Everything you ever wanted is in there, Leon--if you've got the guts to reach out and take it."

Leon took the folder with a sense of foreboding. "Why now?" he asked in a too-quiet voice.

"Because it is time." With that enigmatic response, Ada reached into her supply pack and took out two syringes. "It's also time for another sample. Give me your arm like a good little boy, and no one will get hurt."

He gritted his teeth and slowly, reluctantly, extended his left arm. He barely felt the sting of the needle through his rage. He watched as she filled the syringe with his blood, and then withdrew it. She capped it and put it in her supply pack before taking the cap off of the other one.

"No!" He jerked his arm out of her grasp and took a quick step back. "No more sedatives, Ada."

Ada knew that her sympathy showed as she met his gaze. "I'm sorry, Leon, but this _is_ necessary."

He shook his head negatively. "No, it's not. Just knock me out, or blindfold me. I don't want any more of that shit!"

For a moment, she wished that she could give him what he wanted. Then, she thought of the man who held all of their lives at the end of his leash, and hardened her heart. "I can't. You'd probably end up with a concussion if I did that, again. Now, give me your arm, Leon."

"Damn you!" He thrust his arm at her, grabbing her wrist at the last instant and jerking her close. "Why are you doing this to me? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

She smiled sadly and brought her free hand up to caress his cheek. He jerked away from her, and the moment was gone. "I'm sorry," she whispered huskily and drove the needle into his chest.

Leon gasped as the sedative hit his system. He stumbled back, dropping to his knees as the world went hazy around him. His last sight before he lost consciousness was of Ada, a vision in red satin and black stilettos, a once-cherished dream that had tuned into a nightmare.

_He was is running, dodging outstretched hands that tore relentlessly at his clothes, at his hair. The city is dying around him, the unearthly moans of the undead filling the night air. He shivers and tries yet another door. This one is locked, like all the others before it, and he knows that he won't survive. Damn it, why can't he escape? Why can't he find _her_?_

_He knows she's here. He's heard her voice more than once, filled with fear as she screams his name. He's failed her, he knows he has, even as desperation fuels him and gives him strength to search. He trips over yet another corpse, scrambling away as it clutches feebly at his ankle. He aims his handgun and puts a bullet in its head. It stops moving and he pushes himself to his feet. They are everywhere, an army of death invading his once-peaceful mid-western town, and he could do nothing to stop them. If he didn't keep moving, he would be devoured, or perhaps__resurrected as one of them._

_"No!" he tells himself fiercely. He's made it this far. Once he finds _her_, they will escape together and survive this nightmare. He ignores the mocking voice in the back of his mind that tells him that it's already too late. It can't be. She is all he has left, for all that she hates him._

_He frowns as he begins testing the knobs on random doors. Why would she hate him? He gave her a gun to protect herself with, a radio so they could keep in contact. He even helped the little girl she'd befriended in the precinct. He'd done everything he could to keep her safe and whole. Of course, she didn't hate him._

_He finds an unlocked door and quickly slides it open. He closes it behind him, securing the lock, though he knows it won't do much good. They can break in if they want to, their numbers are legion and they feel no pain. He turns to find himself in some kind of train car. He takes a step forward when he hears his name whispered._

_He turns, and there she is. "Claire!" he exclaims with relief. He rushes towards her, skidding to a halt as she lifts the Magnum in her delicate hands. _

_"Stop right there," she says, her unforgettably blue eyes narrowing on his. _

_"Claire?" he questions in confusion._

_"Remembered my name, did you?" Claire jerks her chin up in challenge, her red-brown ponytail bouncing with the movement. "What are you doing here, Leon?"_

_He hesitates at the venom lacing her usually musical voice. "I came here for you. To rescue you. Claire, what's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"_

_"My hero," she mocks__him. "My knight in blue Kevlar. How else would I look at you after you deserted me? Eight years, Leon. You left me alone with my nightmares, and took my daughter with you. You broke my heart. Just what did you expect?"_

_Her words are like a physical blow. He places a hand over his heart as it begins to bleed.__"Claire, please. I'm here now. I came for you. Doesn't that count for anything?"_

_"Yeah, it does." She cocks the hammer back on the massive gun. "It means you get a quick death."_

_She pulls the trigger, and the last thing he sees is her beautiful lips curled into a smile of satisfaction._

Leon's eyes snapped open, his chest heaving as he fought to draw air. He shuddered violently and buried his face in his hands. He felt the moisture against his palms and knew he'd been crying in his sleep, again. The dreams had always varied in intensity, but lately they were getting worse. He didn't know how much longer he could stand the punishment that his guilty conscious was determined to mete out before he went insane.

He realized that he was wearing his brown leather jacket and frowned. He never fell asleep with it on; it was too damn hot to sleep in. What the hell was he doing wearing it, now?

He glanced around the room and went completely still. It didn't help. The unfamiliar room was still spinning around him as he realized that he'd never made it home. Memories of Ada stabbing him with that damn syringe came crashing back to him, and he cursed fluently. He carefully lowered himself back to the bed, knowing that it would be some time before the effects of the sedative left his too-sensitive system.

Damn her, he thought for the umpteenth time in the last eight years. He wished he'd never met the cold, unfeeling bitch. He didn't know if he would have survived Raccoon City without her, but that didn't matter. There were times--too many to count--when he wished that he hadn't. She had taken everything he had ever loved away from him, forced him to live his life in almost complete isolation. He didn't dare let anyone close to him for fear that they would be next on her list of emotional blackmail.

He closed his eyes and once again wondered what was so damned special about him? What was it that had drawn her to him, and made her so determined to keep him alive and isolated and under her thumb?

Once upon a time, he'd had a family, friends even. S.T.A.R.S. had been both family and friend to him, and he had thrown himself into their anti-Umbrella movement with a fervor that had surprised even him. Up until the day that Claire had left he and Sherry behind to search Europe for her lost brother, S.T.A.R.S. had been his life.

His true family had died with Raccoon City, and he had been forced to turn his friends away for their own safety. Even if he and Claire hadn't argued about her decision to go to France without himself and Sherry, he would have been forced to give her up. The government had come to him not long after her departure, trying to recruit him for a secret governmental agency. When he'd refused, they'd taken Sherry away from him, and forced him into the program anyway. They'd kept him there by threatening not only Sherry, but Claire and the rest of S.T.A.R.S. as well.

Leon smacked the mattress with his clenched fists and felt something smooth under his right hand. He opened his eyes cautiously and the blue folder immediately blurred. He forced himself into a sitting position, ignoring the nausea that promptly rose in his throat. He pulled the folder into his lap and fumbled it with heavy fingers. It finally came open, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Claire," he murmured, his voice hoarse with a million unspoken emotions. Her image began to blur and he fought it with everything that he had. She looked the same, he thought with surprise. Her red-brown hair was caught up at the back of her head in a ponytail, her eyes still that vibrant shade of cerulean blue he remembered so well. The S.T.A.R.S. uniform fit her like a glove, and he felt tears well up in his eyes.

She doesn't look as though she's aged at all, he thought with longing. His hand lingered on her picture for a long time before he forced himself to turn the page. Another picture, of Sherry Birkin this time. Sherry was twenty now, and she had grown into a beautiful young woman. Her blond hair was worn long, framing her heart-shaped face perfectly. She didn't look as though she had been treated badly by her government captors, and he prayed that it was so.

Ada had brought letters to him from time to time, and he had used these to monitor Sherry's well-being from an enforced distance. She'd always assured him that she _was_ treated well, but he didn't trust Ada or the government. Every word had probably been censored by them. He truly had no idea how Sherry had fared in their care. He wanted like hell to believe that they'd been kind to her, but he'd seen too much to expect it. Sherry had a natural immunity to the virus her parents had created, and he didn't doubt that they'd used her as a lab rat for their experiments.

He had tried to find her once, only to be repaid with an attempt on Claire Redfield's life. So long as he played ball, and left Sherry's care to them, both she and Claire had been relatively safe. If he were to ever go against them, or if his miserable life ever came to an end. . .

Leon shuddered violently. He was the only thing standing between the women he loved and death. He didn't know why he was so important to the government, and he no longer cared. A few times a year Ada showed up, brought him a letter, and took a little of his blood. He just hoped that they weren't using it to make some kind of bioweapon. Yet, this _was_ the U.S. government, not Umbrella Inc., despite what Krauser had hinted at in Spain. Maybe there was another reason, one that he just wasn't smart enough to grasp.

He tried to read the profiles beside the pictures and couldn't. His eyesight still wasn't up to snuff, and wouldn't be until the drugs had worn off. He hated this little weakness of his, and how easily Ada had exploited it. He'd taken a bullet to the chest in his first year of training. He had nearly died on the operating table as his body's biggest flaw had made itself known. He couldn't take sedatives of any kind, not even sleeping pills. He wasn't supposed to drink alcohol either, although that had never stopped him. Sometimes, it was the only way he got any sleep at night.

He sighed heavily as he folded the papers and tucked them into his tactical vest. He narrowed his eyes to focus them and took a quick survey of the room. The bed was a four-poster deal with heavy red curtains tied to the posts with thick golden cords. A dresser sat at the end of the bed, dusty picture frames gracing the top of it. There was a door at that end of the room, as well as one next to a large, ornate music box opposite of him.

He recognized nothing of his surroundings, and the urge to hurt the woman responsible for this rose up in him. He pushed it down, forcing into a dark corner of his heart usually reserved for Claire Redfield. He hated that they would be together, even if only in his feelings. His hatred for Ada Wong wasn't nearly as strong as his love for Claire, but it was a close thing. If he ever got the chance, he knew that he would take Ada's life and consequences be damned.

He also knew that Claire and Sherry would suffer for his actions. That was what had kept him from killing the bitch so far, but Leon seriously wondered how much longer that would be enough. All he wanted was a way to keep them safe before he finally put an end to his own miserable life. No more nightmares, no more surrounding himself with the death he had once feared so much. No, were the opportunity to ever present itself, he would welcome death with open arms.

Luckily, he had been able to hide his depression from the few people he was _allowed_ contact with. President Graham couldn't care less about his mental state, unless it kept Leon from protecting his daughter. Neither Ashley nor Hunnigan had gotten close enough to him to truly know what he was like. All the people he interacted with in the course of his duties thought that he was either very shy, or just a cold son of a bitch. Most believed him to be a loner, a maverick with no care for the rules. What none of these people realized was that he lived every moment of his life in fear. Were he to let just one person close to him, if he were ever stupid enough to confide in someone, they would be terminated immediately.

Leon wondered almost idly if Ada had ever guessed how he truly felt. She was a sharp woman. God knew, she didn't miss much. If she had, she had chosen to ignore the signs in favor of whatever the hell her assignment was. He thought back to the disembodied voice that had struck such terror into him, and was immediately filled with curiosity. He wondered who it was that Ada Wong worked for, and why they had chosen him as their pet project.

In Europe, he'd discovered that Jack Krauser had brought Ada into he and Wesker's little operation to steal a sample of the Las Plagas parasite. Leon had never met Albert Wesker, but he had heard a lot about him. A former Umbrella scientist turned covert agent, he had taken advantage of the first T-virus outbreak, and sent the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team into the Spencer mansion to obtain battle data on the Umbrella B.O.W.s. Rumor had it that he'd been a double agent, playing both sides, but who the second party he'd allegedly spied for was remained a mystery.

Leon truly hoped that he was wrong about the identity of Ada's employer. He'd read enough on Albert Wesker to know that, while the man wasn't quite a genius, he had above average intelligence. He was utterly ruthless, and reported to be immortal. It was said that he had either been contaminated during the Spencer Mansion incident, or that he had injected himself with one of the viruses. No one knew for sure, and Leon would rather not find out if it meant a confrontation between the two of them. As good as he was, he didn't know if he could take the man that everyone spoke of in frightened whispers.

He pushed himself to his feet, grabbing the bedpost as the room tilted wildly around him. He waited for the world to even out and took a shaky step towards the far door. His foot hit something and he found himself sprawled face-down on the floor. His ribs protested as something cut into his mid-section and he dragged himself to his knees.

His attaché case lay before him, and he smiled for the first time since awakening. He opened it and found it fully stocked. He checked all of his weapons, pleasantly surprised to see that they hadn't been tampered with. All of his ammunition was still there, along with a bevy of first aid supplies and a key simply labeled, "Master Key".

Well, that was new, Leon thought, blinking. For once he might be spared having to hunt for jewels, or wracking his brain for solutions to elaborate puzzles. He wondered why Ada--who else would have bothered to arm him?--had left him this. Whatever she'd planned for him, she seemed to want him to succeed. Why, he didn't know, and probably never would. For now, it was enough to negate a portion of the rage that always accompanied thoughts of her.

He pulled the Killer 7 out and considered it for a long moment before choosing the riot shotgun. If he ran into something really heavy, he'd switch weapons. Until then, he was saving the more powerful handgun and its rare ammunition. The riot gun was nearly as powerful, and it _did_ hold a hundred bullets as opposed to seven.

Just to be on the safe side, he mixed some of the herbs and tucked them into his vest. He also put the Killer 7 there, so it would be easily accessible in case he suddenly found himself confronted by something he couldn't otherwise handle. He added several clips of .45 caliber bullets and the Master Key to his pockets. He'd learned the importance of being prepared after the fiasco in Raccoon City.

That thought brought Claire to the forefront of his mind. He smiled again and left her there. She would never know it, but she had gotten him through more rough spots than she could ever imagine. Every time he was forced into a life-or-death situation, it was her voice that whispered to him of practical things, her voice that told him which direction to go, _her_ voice which urged him to survive.

Yeah, he had his problems, Leon acknowledged silently. He was afraid to rely on his own instincts, to listen to that little voice in the back of his mind that tried its best to keep him alive. However, he had absolutely no problem responding to that voice when it belonged to Claire Redfield. Again, he knew he had problems, but he'd never considered loving Claire one of them.

Leon approached the door and tried the knob. It was locked, of course. He thought of the key he had just put away and smiled slowly. He had the key right here, and it was a size twelve. He drew his foot back and kicked the door open. Sure, he'd just alerted everything in a five-mile radius that he was here, but he simply didn't care. Let the monsters come, and eat hot fucking lead.

Adrenaline kicked in and pushed the dizziness away as he stepped into a hallway. Fancy divans and sidebars littered the narrow passage, covered with stacks of books, but nothing jumped into his path. He cocked his head to one side and listened, but he could hear nothing. Whatever Ada had set up for him in this place, it wasn't meant to happen here.

Which was just fine with him, Leon thought as he studied a picture that seemed to flash under the dim light of an oil lamp. He approached it and grinned to himself. What was it with rich people and truly terrible paintings? This one had a picture of a large mansion with a fancy walkway and tall stone walls surrounding it. A dock stood to one side, down a little flight of service stairs, a _submarine_ sitting submerged in the water beside it.

He had to suppress a laugh at that. He looked closer and realized that fine silver lines ran through the image itself. A map, he realized with surprise, and a not-so-subtle one, at that! He smashed the glass with the barrel of the riot gun and withdrew the picture. There was another map on the back of the canvas, this one covered with a cold-looking metal structure out in the middle of a vast snowfield.

A lab, maybe? he mused, narrowing his eyes to fight off a lingering visual haze. Yep, definitely an Umbrella-like laboratory. The black lines on this one showed that it went at least three stories underground, maybe more. Now that his adrenaline level was beginning to drop, the sedative was hacking away at him with a vengeance. He thought he could make out an airplane hangar, but he wasn't sure. He would worry about that later. For now, it was time to run Ada's newest gauntlet and see if his freedom truly lay at its end.

He memorized as much of the map as he could before putting it away. He only hoped his mind would stay clear enough to get him the hell out of here, even if he didn't know where here was.

The hallway hooked around to his right, and he followed it cautiously. There was another turn at the far end, but Leon ignored it. The map had shown that the way out was the red door up ahead to the left. He opened it. He found himself at the top of what appeared to be a grand staircase. Everything was bathed in red; the carpeting covering the stairs, the walls, even the ceiling was red. It reminded him of blood, and he shivered.

He heard the faint sounds of shuffling bodies and deep groans and nearly groaned himself. Zombies, he thought fatalistically. Not only did they haunt his dreams, but now his reality too. He heard a hiss and the patter of too-fast footsteps and brought the shotgun up automatically. He knew what that sound signified, and it was more terrifying than any regular zombie he had ever encountered.

The Crimson Head came rushing up the staircase, fleet-footed and coordinated, as though it wasn't a reanimated human corpse. Leon watched with clenched teeth as it thundered closer, knowing that if he didn't time his shot just right, the enhanced zombie would take his head off with one blow. It finally made its way to the top of the stairs and hissed as it saw him. It came rushing at him, and he waited until the last possible moment to pull the trigger.

Its head exploded in a shower of coagulated blood and atrophied gray matter. Leon used his sleeve to wipe off his face and prayed that there weren't too many more of them. Taking their heads was the only way to make sure that the Crimson Heads stayed dead. Anything else, and it would revive again and again to chase any form of food in the vicinity. God, he thought as he started forward, he hated being food!

Leon spared a glance for the large statue that the staircase wound around. It was a white marble statue of a nude woman, but it was warped and twisted. It was covered in dust and grime, and dull chains held it suspended from several points in the ceiling. He didn't know who it was supposed to represent, and he didn't care. He wanted out of this fucking place--Now!

He stopped at the last landing and looked down. The groans were louder now, the hissing more faint. He watched as at least a dozen undead zombies all turned towards him in tandem. Fuck, he was going to need the .45.

Leon pulled the Killer 7 out and began to take aim as they began to file up the stairs. He was careful to aim only at the head, and he took out the ones that looked to be the fastest first. But he wasn't taking any chances that a Crimson Head might simply be caught at the back of the undead pack, either. He heard a dry click and quickly slammed a fresh clip home. He had to concentrate like hell with his head still swimming, but he didn't waste a single shot.

Soon enough, the stairs before him were littered with bloody, still-twitching bodies. Leon eyed them warily as he reloaded the Killer 7. They seemed to be down, but he'd been fooled before, and he didn't relish the thought of being infected through a bite on the ankle. He wished he had enough ammunition to cut through them one more time, but he knew better. He was in a strange place with no backup, and he didn't know what he might run up against.

Screw that, Leon thought suddenly. He wasn't going to wade through the pile, but he wasn't wasting his damn ammo, either. He backed up a few steps and took a running start. He jumped over them, tucking his body as he landed and rolled to a stop. He sprang to his feet and quickly brought the riot gun up before him. When nothing met his gaze, he turned to the way out.

The five wide stairs before him led to two large, ornate doors. That was his way out, and he was taking it. He jogged up the stairs, spying a small pot with a green plant. He struggled with a sudden, insane urge to laugh. A healing herb. In the midst of all this chaos, some ignorant asshole always left an aesthetically pleasing, incredibly potent potted plant lying around. He didn't get it himself. He wasn't a plant person.

Leon grinned and left it where it was as he kicked the huge double doors open. He found himself at the top of a crumbling stone porch with more damn stairs which overlooked a decaying courtyard. He was halfway down when a faint whistle sent him scrambling back to the top. Something smashed into the stone where he had been standing, sending stone chips flying through the air. He made it to the top of the landing and took stock of the situation.

It was at least seven feet tall, all pasty skin and pale muscle. It walked towards him on two legs, its distorted features completely blank. Its right arm lashed out, missing him by inches, even though at least ten feet separated them. A claw sliced through the air in place of its hand, and Leon knew what he had to do.

He pumped the riot gun and blasted away. Six shells later and it dropped to the ground, undeniably dead. He saw that another waited at the end of the courtyard's maze and sighed. Whatever these things were, they weren't nearly as scary as a simple Licker. He took aim from where he was and fired. It roared and began to limp his way. It had to navigate a maze of broken stone and tangled weeds, giving him plenty of time to blast away from his relatively safe vantage point.

It finally went down, twitched twice, and went still. Leon took the opportunity to replace the spent rounds with fresh shells. Yeah, maybe he was paranoid, but what was the point of having a hundred-round capacity shotgun if he didn't keep it filled?

He made his way through the courtyard and entered the covered wooden passage at its end. He was well into it when the moans started again. More freakin' zombies, he thought as he began to fire. He shot his way through the narrow passage, not taking time to look behind him. This damn thing had to end sometime, and he'd undoubtedly find himself in a room with something much worse.

He ended up in a U-shaped hallway. He crept forward carefully, hating these kinds of passages because you were forced to take the only corner in the room practically blind. He brought the riot gun up before him and rounded that corner. The passage was clear, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned back against the wall for a few moments, waiting for another bout of dizziness to pass.

Once his mind cleared enough to allow him to concentrate, he pulled out the map. Two more rooms, and another grand staircase. Then, he would be out of this place. He tucked the map away and drew a deep breath before entering the next room.

It was some kind of office, and the passage he'd just left had been a secret one. A fancy standing clock with two human figurines stood to his left, the marks on the faded red carpet showing that it had been moved to reveal the passage's doorway. Past it was a large, cherry-wood desk that dominated the room, the bay window at its back lending to its imposing air.

Leon kept his nervous eyes on the window as he backed towards the door opposite of it. He was fully expecting something to come crashing through it, and was almost disappointed when it didn't happen. He grasped the doorknob and opened it just enough to fit his body through. He slammed it closed behind him, listening for the sound of breaking glass. Only silence greeted his ears, and he frowned. So far, this had been way too easy.

He noted the two gun-shaped indentations on the door with little more than a shrug. Even if the guns had been there, he wouldn't have taken them. He had a damn arsenal in his attaché case. He certainly didn't need anything more.

He made his way past two waist-high display cases with glass tops—he didn't see anything useful in either—and was pleasantly surprised when the short hallway opened up to a larger room. There was a desk with an old-fashioned typewriter, and a large trunk behind it. That was all it took. Leon began to laugh, he couldn't help himself. This was all too familiar, and funny as hell.

Leon popped the trunk open and found three six-sided crests. Army, Navy, and Air Force. He spied a brown wheel that eerily resembled a ship's steering wheel, and even though it looked different, it reminded him of a valve handle he'd used in Raccoon City. He grabbed all of it with a sigh, knowing he'd regret it later if he didn't. He went to the typewriter and took the single piece of paper sticking out of it in his hands. What he read chilled his blood.

It simply said, "Claire.", over and over, until the entire page was filled with her name. Leon shivered and crushed the paper in his fist. He knew that he hadn't done it. After all, he had been unconscious in another building. Still, there was a part of himself that was completely obsessed with Claire Redfield, and he had always feared what his feelings for her could drive him to do.

"Forget it, Kennedy. Even you're not this crazy," he muttered aloud. It was probably just a cruel joke Ada had played, something to remind him of what she held over him.

He threw the wad of paper on the floor and made room in his tactical vest for the military crests. He grabbed the riot gun and set out again. He left the reception room and found himself at the top of another staircase. A round table sat to his left, two wing-back chairs flanking it. Again, in red. He was really beginning to hate that color!

He ignored the aged paintings of aristocratic-looking people as he took the steps to a small landing. The stairs continued to right, another door at the end. Leon didn't even want to know what was behind it. He just wanted out.

Keeping that thought firmly in mind, he made his way down the steps into the main hall. There was a desk with a computer, probably for security. Unless the front door was locked, he wasn't touching it. There were two doors to his right, and his mind flashed back to the map. One was a bathroom, something he didn't need right now, and the other led to a hallway with three more rooms. None of them led to an exit, and he wasn't in the mood to go exploring.

He pushed the double doors that should be the exit open with more caution than he'd previously shown. Fresh air greeted him, and he drew it in eagerly. He stepped outside and down the stairs, half-expecting to find more zombies or mutant Dobermans. He reached the end of the walkway and paused. Yeah, there were Dobies, all right, but somebody else had gotten to them first. Two of the mutated dogs lay in a pool of blood, their warped bodies littered with bullet holes. How the hell had somebody taken them out without him hearing the damn shots?

He heard the murmur of human voices and swung to his left. A sleek, feminine form came into view, presumably from the stairs that led to the dock. Her head came up as she saw him, her handgun following suit, and his heart stopped in his chest.

"Claire?!"

Her misty blue eyes widened, the gun wavering, and the world tilted around him as his concentration was shattered. He dropped to his knees, throwing his arms out to keep his face from hitting the pavement. He heard his name spoken in that unique, musical voice that haunted his dreams, and nearly blacked out.

* * *

Sherry Birkin watched the security monitor with a combination of pride and concern as Leon Kennedy made his way through the recreated Ashford Mansion. He had to be terrified as zombies, Crimson Heads, and Bandersnatchers came at him, yet his still-youthful features showed no signs of fear. She smiled as he reached the palace's reception room and began to laugh. His laughter stopped abruptly as he saw the message that had been left for his former lover. Now, he looked worried.

She snuck a glance at the tall, silent woman next to her. Ada's dark blue eyes were glued to the screen, and the man that they showed. A separate monitor showed the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team as they explored the exterior grounds, but Ada's eyes were only for Leon. Sherry didn't understand exactly what was between them, but she knew that it wasn't good. Ada was always calm and controlled, but her eyes shone every time she left to see Leon. And every time she returned, she was even colder and more remote than normal, the spark completely gone.

Sherry sighed to herself and turned back to the monitor. Leon was outside, now. Soon, he would run into Claire and the rest of S.T.A.R.S., and she wondered how he would handle it. He'd been kept away from his former comrades for eight years, and he had loved Claire with all of his heart. This wasn't going to be pretty, to say the least.

Then, he and Claire came face-to-face, and Leon's reaction was totally unexpected. He had dropped to his hands and knees, his body swaying as though he'd lost control of it. "No!" Sherry whispered fiercely, knowing that the sedative he'd been given was to blame. She had already drawing her handgun from its holster, and was nearly to the door, when Ada stopped her.

"Take this," Ada said in her husky voice, extending her hand.

Sherry grabbed the gold locket and slipped the chain over her head. She hesitated, her light blue gaze meeting the older woman's. "Thank you, Ada--for everything."

The older woman merely smiled and turned away. "Good luck, child."

She nodded and shot through the door. She took the hidden lift to the surface, ducking as the hedges above it parted, its branches narrowly missed her face as they parted. She found Leon surrounded by his former comrades, Alpha Team's resident medic, Rebecca Chambers, checking his vitals.

Leon was sitting, propped up against the stone wall. Chambers was gently opening his eyes with one small hand. "His pupils are dialated," she was saying. "I think he's been drugged."

"Not drugs," Leon mumbled, his words slurring. "Sedative."

"You were sedated?" Jill Valentine asked him with surprise.

"How long ago?" Rebecca asked urgently.

His head rolled listlessly in Claire Redfield's direction. "I don't know."

Claire's brother, Chris Redfield, glared at him and Sherry had had enough. She jumped down from the lift, her gun trained on Rebecca Chambers. "Get away from him."

The rest of S.T.A.R.S. drew their weapons at her approached, but she ignored them. "Move away from him, Chambers. Do it now."

A tall, dark-haired man she didn't recognize leveled his gun on her with cold cobalt eyes. "Back off, bitch," he all but snarled, and Sherry knew that he'd shoot her without a qualm.

"Billy, enough." Chris Redfield, the captain of Alpha Team, waved Rebecca towards him. "Step away from him, Becca."

"But he's hurt!" Rebecca protested, placing her body protectively before him. "He needs something to counteract whatever sedative he was given--"

"No!" Sherry shouted, her worry causing her to lash out. "Unless you _want_ to kill him, you'll get your skinny ass away from him--_Now_."

Claire's startling blue eyes widened in shocked recognition. "Sherry?!"

"Yeah, Claire." She waited until Chambers had joined the rest of Alpha Team to kneel beside her surrogate father. She brushed the fall of blond hair out his eyes with a gentle hand. "Come on, Leon. Snap out of it. I need you here."

"Sherry?" His clear blue eyes rolled to hers, and a smile wobbled on his lips. "Is it really you?"

She matched his smile as tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. "Yeah, Dad, it's me."

He reached out and dragged her to him. She held him tightly, knowing just how hard this had to be on him. Ada had told her how depressed he'd become, and how it had forced her to find a way to secure their freedom. She'd talked her lover into this macabre gauntlet, playing on his ego and his hatred for S.T.A.R.S. She'd done everything she could to make this as easy as possible for them, including supplying a master key for every non-electronic door in the scenario.

Leon clung to the slender girl in his arms. Even with the drug screwing with his system, he recognized the young woman that Sherry Birkin had become. "How?" was all he could manage as emotion choked his throat.

"Later," Sherry told him gently as she pulled back. His blue eyes were bright with unshed tears, and she understood. "We don't have time for this, Leon. We have to get out of here, now."

He nodded, and all traces of emotion were gone. Ada hadn't been kidding when she'd said that Leon had changed. He narrowed his eyes a little and pushed himself to his feet. "Do you know where we are?" he asked in a hard voice.

"The Ashford family mansion," Claire answered in a voice that shook. "Sherry, how is that you're here? That either of you are here?"

Leon tore his gaze from her beloved features, focusing on the one person he knew he could trust. "Is this a recreation of Rockfort Island, then?"

"Yes." Sherry ignored the woman who had turned her back on them both. "This is only the beginning, Leon. We have a long way to go."

He flashed her a crooked smile, one devoid of amusement, and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his vest. "I found this inside," he said as he opened it. "It's a map of this place, as well as some kind of lab."

They all gathered around as Leon pointed to the dock. "I think this is going to be the way to the next. . .level." He flipped the paper over. "This is where we're supposed to go next."

Claire wrapped her arms around her middle as memories assaulted her. "Chris. . ."

"I know," her brother said quietly. He cleared his throat and backed away. "We need to use the sub to get to the airport. The docking controls are missing the handle and--"

"I've got it." Leon opened his attaché case and pulled out the brown steering wheel. "I found this in the reception room. It ought to work."

"Yeah, that's it." Claire shuddered and leaned into Chris, who wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "We'll also need three military proofs to get the airport lift to work."

"I've got them, too," Leon said shortly. He pulled the three hexagonal crests from his vests and handed to Chris. "I don't know about any of you, but I want to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible."

Carlos Olivera laughed grimly. "We're with you, _amigo_."

"Good." He grabbed the riot gun and pumped it once, chambering the next round. "Sherry, you're with me," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Sherry just smiled in response to the authority in his tone. "You're the only reason I'm here, Leon."

Leon shot her a look but didn't comment. There would time enough for questions later. "I'm willing to work with you," he told Chris, meeting his gaze evenly, "but I don't take orders anymore. You should know that now."

Billy Coen snickered at the anger on Redfield's face. "You've got balls, Kennedy."

"And then some." Leon flashed him a meaningless smile. "Billy Coen, I presume?"

"The same." He put an arm around Rebecca's shoulders in an unmistakable gesture of possession. "You ready to blow this place, Kennedy?"

"That's the idea." He gestured for Sherry to fall in line beside him, and she did so without speaking. He wondered briefly where she had gotten her obvious training, but he was pretty sure he knew. Another thing to thank Ada for if he ever saw her, again, he thought nastily. He and Sherry walked towards the docks, leaving S.T.A.R.S. to follow.

"God, he's changed," Claire whispered as she stared after the man she'd loved with an expression of shock.

Jill placed a hand on her shoulder briefly. "It's been eight years, Claire. We've all changed."

"Yeah, but. . ." Claire's voice trailed off as she shook her head and began to walk, muttering something that sounded like, "not that damned much."

Chris bit back an angry comment as they followed. To this day, he held a grudge against Leon Kennedy for what he'd done to his sister. Only Claire's insistence that Leon not be hurt had stopped him from tracking the son of a bitch down and beating him within an inch of his life. Now, he was forced to work with him if they wanted to make it out of here alive, and it pissed him off.

They found Leon and Sherry on the small lift, attaching the brown steering wheel to the control panel. Leon stepped off the lift and waved him forward. "This thing's not big enough for us all, Chris. Do you and yours want to go first?"

Chris eyed him suspiciously before forcing his anger away. Leon Kennedy might be an asshole when it came to women, but he had always been a trustworthy ally. "Jill?"

His lover and second-in-command stepped forward. "I'll take Carlos and Claire with me," he told her. "I'll send the lift back when I'm done."

"We'll be fine," Jill told him calmly, then patted the grenade launcher in her hands.

He sent her an intimate smile as Claire and Carlos joined him on the lift. He set his hands of the wheel and hesitated, his gaze cutting to Leon. "Do either of you want to come, now?"

"No," Sherry said immediately, stepping close to Leon. "We won't be separated."

Leon sent her a faint smile and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the cold stone wall. "We'll wait, Chris. Go ahead."

Chris nodded and turned back to the wheel, turning it in his big hands. Claire stood at his side, her sidearm drawn, her haunting eyes locked on _him_. Leon returned her gaze steadily, all the while fighting to keep the emotion out of his eyes. She held his gaze until the lift came to a stop. When she ripped her eyes from his, he felt the loss like a physical blow.

He put on hand on his stomach and rubbed it absently. The world was slowly becoming steadier, but not fast enough to suit him. He hated that he had this weakness, just as he hated the distance between he and Claire. It didn't matter that he had put it there himself, it still hurt like a bitch.

"Where's Barry?" he asked abruptly, more to distract himself than from any genuine curiosity.

"He retired three months ago," Jill replied with a smile. "Apparently, he wasn't invited to this little soirée."

"Lucky him," Leon grunted.

Rebecca studied him as the others climbed into the submarine. He still didn't seem quite steady, and she was worried about him. "When were you given the sedative?" she asked quietly.

Leon just sighed. "I really don't know, Rebecca. I woke up maybe an hour ago, and it hasn't gone away, yet."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Jill asked in a somber voice.

His hand moved to the spot where Ada had stabbed him. "Being injected with the shit," he answered angrily. "After that, it's all black until I wake up here."

Rebecca frowned. "Do you know the person who administered the shot?"

Leon's angelic features hardened dramatically, although he didn't answer. "Does it matter?" he said instead. "I can function until it wears off. You don't have to worry about me folding at a crucial moment."

"I didn't mean that," Rebecca assured him, surprised by the conclusion he had drawn. "I just thought that if I knew who had given you the drug, we might be able to figure out what they used, and what _we_ could use to counteract it."

Sherry snorted as she smoothed the black weapons vest over her black t-shirt. "I told you that that would kill him," she said with exasperation. "Don't you people listen?"

Billy narrowed his eyes on the ballsy little blond with the big mouth. "Why would that kill him?" he asked in a too-quiet tone.

"Because I'm susceptible to painkillers," Leon snapped in response to that veiled anger. "If it's already in my system, then it's too late. I'll just have to wait for it to wear off."

Jill merely nodded, her dark brown hair falling into her face. She pushed it out of the way and readjusted her green beret to keep it back. "When did you discover this?" she asked in her smooth, placid way.

Leon shrugged his broad shoulders as he watched the lift return. "I think it's your turn," he said without answering. He gestured towards the lift. "Just hurry. I don't like being out here in the open like this."

"Why don't you come with us?' she suggested. "There's enough room for all us if we're careful."

He regarded the classy woman he'd always liked for a long moment. "Alright," he said finally, not wanting to risk Sherry's safety by leaving only the two of them behind.

Leon grabbed the riot gun and used a strap to secure it to his back. He grabbed Sherry's hand and piled onto the small lift. He waited until the others had followed, and turned the wheel. With a creak and a moan, it started to move. It seemed to take forever to reach the submarine, though it was probably closer to twenty seconds. Leon climbed onto the submarine and reached a hand out to Jill, smiling faintly at her surprised look. She took it and climbed through the submarine's small circular hatch. Rebecca was next. She climbed through the hatch, a scowling Coen on her heels.

Leon turned to Sherry and took her hand. "I can see that you've had training," he told her in a low voice, "but I have to know if you're up to this."

Sherry smiled at the man who had sacrificed so much of his life for her and nodded solemnly. "I'm nearly as good as you are, Leon. I promise."

While he wasn't pleased with the statement, a part of him was relieved that she could handle the arsenal currently strapped to her body. "Get going, then."

He helped her into the hatch and followed. He ignored the attached ladder and jumped down the hole. He landed with a hard thump, trying not to smile at the startled expressions the S.T.A.R.S. members threw his way. There wasn't a lot of room on the tiny sub, so he wedged himself in between Sherry and Carlos on one of the benches. He listened to Carlos as he hit on the young woman and opened his mouth to protest. Sherry shut the ladies man down quickly and not too kindly, and he snapped his mouth closed. Apparently, Ada had taught his daughter something more than simple combat training.

The submarine stopped, and everyone rose to their feet. Claire took the front this time and addressed the troops. "The ladder leads straight to the underwater entrance tunnel." She hesitated before adding, "Once you're passed the main tunnel, there's probably going to be a lot of zombies."

Leon threw her a sharp glance. "Crimson Heads?"

"There weren't any last time," Chris said, "but they don't exactly seem to be playing by the rules here. I think we can expect some whenever we run into zombies."

"Great." Leon sighed and checked his weapon again. "I hate those damned things."

"You're not the only one," Jill muttered. "They gave me a hell of a hard time in the mansion."

Rebecca and Chris both nodded, wearing similar expressions of unease. Leon hadn't encountered them personally until tonight, but he'd read the case files the government had gathered on all of the Umbrella incidents. Otherwise, he probably would have left the first one alive, and died after it had revived and gone hunting for him. He definitely sympathized.

"Do you have something more powerful than that?" he asked Claire, gesturing to her nine-millimeter Beretta.

She nodded, her reddish ponytail bouncing saucily with the movement. "I have my Magnum, but I'm running low on ammo."

"Hold on." Leon opened the attaché case and gave her five of his precious clips. "Take these. You'll have to remove them from the clips, but they should fit your Desert Eagle."

"Thanks," Claire murmured, her eyes lingering on him as he put the giant briefcase away. He rose to his feet and she quickly glanced away, popping the bullets out of the clip and stuffing them in her waist-pack.

Leon caught himself staring at her and tore his gaze away. "Anything else we should know?" he asked gruffly.

She shook her head negatively, then verbally corrected herself. "There may be bats inside the hangar. We'll need light to keep them away."

"I've got my lighter," Billy said immediately, patting his front jeans pocket.

"I've got mine, too," Chris assured her.

Leon stifled a laugh. "I've still got the one I got in Raccoon," he told them dryly. "Never leave home without it."

They all looked to Jill, who blinked at suddenly being the center of attention. "What?" she asked in her husky voice. "The three of you have lighters. You certainly don't need mine."

Claire chuckled as she reloaded the Desert Eagle. "The bats aren't nearly as mean as the crows were, but they'll still attack if you get too close."

Sherry shuddered dramatically. "As long as they're not mutated Dobies, I'm good."

Leon smiled at her gently. "I'll protect you, kid."

"My hero," she returned, her voice very dry, as she withdrew a Broken Butterfly from her tactical vest. "I think I've got it covered, Dad."

He eyed the big .45 that he knew kicked like a mule with a shake of his blond head. "Can you really handle that thing, Sherry?"

"Better than you," Sherry shot back tauntingly. "I've seen your scores, Leon. You suck with this gun."

He found himself flushing with embarrassment. "I'm better with the Killer 7 or the Handcannon. So, sue me."

Claire watched them interact with a small smile before clearing her throat. "There's one more thing," she said, waiting until they looked at her. "Once we were in the air, we found that we had a stowaway. It's what was left of Alexander Ashford."

"Better known as the T-078, Tyrant, or Nosferatu," Chris inserted quietly.

Leon frowned as something niggled at his memory. "I thought you caught up to Claire _after_ she escaped from here," he said slowly.

Chris traded an uncomfortable glance with his younger sister. "I did."

Claire dropped her gaze as memories of Steve Burnside came at her in a rush. "I met someone here, a kid," she explained awkwardly. "His name was Steve Burnside, and he was a prisoner here before the bombing. He escaped with me."

Leon felt Sherry stiffen at his side, but his attention was focused on Claire, and the pain etched into her delicate features. "He didn't make it out, did he?"

"No," she murmured thickly, "he didn't."

He fell silent as she brushed passed them. He hadn't found any mention of Steve Burnside in any of the reports he'd gone over from the Rockfort Island incident. Either the government had missed him in the aftermath of the island's destruction, or a certain someone he loved to hate had altered the file before it had reached him. He'd have to ask Ada about that before he ripped her fucking heart out.

Leon followed as Claire started up the ladder, knowing that Sherry would follow. He didn't want to take a chance on being separated from Claire in case something happened. He wouldn't put it past Ada to use Claire to keep both himself and Sherry trapped in her web of deceit. If the others didn't like it, they could shoot him. Otherwise, there was no way they could stop him.

Claire was standing next to the big observation window, clutching her Magnum to her chest protectively. Leon climbed out of the hatch and helped Sherry out. Carlos came next, and Leon was surprised by the change. He'd half-hoped it would be Jill, just because she didn't seem to hate him quite so much. Carlos didn't either, but with him you could never really tell. He'd never taken anything too seriously.

"Thanks, _amigo_, but I don't think I'm ready to go that far," Carlos drawled as he aimed a look at Leon's outstretched hand.

Leon's lips twitched as he turned away. "Trust me, Carlos, you're nowhere near my type," he said dryly.

"My heart bleeds," Carlos quipped as he joined them.

"Is he always like this?" Sherry asked no one in particular.

Carlos slapped a hand dramatically over his heart. "Ah, _chica_, you wound me."

"Not yet," she shot at him in return.

Claire rolled her eyes as she walked a few feet away from the opening. "Shut up, Carlos. She's too damn young for you, anyway."

"Hey, I'm only twenty-nine," he declared, batting his big brown eyes at Sherry. "How old are you, _chica_?"

Sherry cocked one blond eyebrow at him. "I'm twenty," she answered, adding for emphasis, "And I'm old enough to know about guys like _you_."

A laugh rumbled from Leon before he could stop it. "Looks like my kid's got your number, Olivera."

Carlos just snorted as Billy's head appeared at the top of the ladder. "If she's your kid, I'll eat my--"

"Don't say it," Claire cut in hastily. She shooed him away from the opening. "I know you get action on a regular basis, Carlos, so you're not this desperate. Leave the kid alone."

Sherry shot her a venomous look and Leon stepped in. "You know she didn't mean it that way," he told her quietly.

She struggled to push down the years of suppressed anger she felt towards Claire Redfield. "Yeah," she managed finally, "I know."

"Sherry?" Claire said her name hesitantly. "Why are so angry with me?"

Alarm tightened Leon's gut. "Claire--"

"No, I want to answer this." Sherry looked at the woman she'd once loved like a mother and her hands fisted at her sides. "You never came for us, Claire. You walked out on us when we needed you the most, and then you never came back. You forgot that we even existed. That is why I'm _angry_ with you."

Claire watched as she walked into the walked further into the underwater entrance tunnel with a troubled expression. "That's not true," she said in a quiet, subdued voice. "I never forgot either of you."

"Claire, don't." Leon reached a hand out to touch her before reality set in. He jerked it back and stepped away. "She's had a rough time the past eight years. She didn't mean any of it."

"What about you?" Claire pinned him under her intense blue gaze. "Do you feel the same way?"

He smiled sadly. "No, Claire, you're the last person I'd blame for any of this," he said before walking away.

Billy whistled soundlessly. "That's the ex, huh?"

Carlos shot him a dark look. "You okay, _pequena_?"

Claire took a deep breath and released it. "Yeah, Carlos, I'll live."

They turned as Chris, Jill, and Rebecca came out of the hatch in short order. Chris frowned at the three of them. "Where are Leon and Sherry?"

"They're up ahead." Claire pointed to a point farther up the walkway, where Leon had his arms around the young girl. "They're waiting for us there."

Jill looked at her with knowing eyes, but didn't comment. "Let's just get this over with," she sighed. "I really want to go home."

Leon looked up as they approached, his hand running over Sherry's hair. "Just how bad was this Tyrant you fought?" he asked.

"Bad enough that I needed a grenade launcher to down it the first time," Claire answered flatly.

He nodded and released Sherry. He dug into his attaché case, trading the gun strapped to his back for the Striker. The riot gun was better for long range shooting, but Tyrants had a way of getting up close and personal really fast, and the Striker was the more powerful weapon at close range.

"What, no rocket launcher?" Jill asked in a dry voice.

"Sorry," Leon grinned. "They're not standard military issue anymore."

"Good thing none of us are military then," former Marine Force Recon member Billy Coen said with a straight face.

Carlos, whose origins nobody knew, laughed at that. "Good one, _amigo_."

Chris' lips twisted in a half-smile. They were all former military, except for Claire, Leon, and Sherry Birkin. "Screw the military," he said with a shrug. "They certainly didn't appreciate us when they had us."

He'd been court-martialed, Leon remembered suddenly, followed by a dishonorable discharge. He'd always been surprised by the knowledge. Chris was such a strong, steady guy that you tended to forget that he'd once been a badass. "Shit happens," was all he said in response.

"That it does," Jill agreed with a grin of her own.

He checked the Striker to make sure that it was fully loaded--yep, one hundred rounds exactly--and rose to his feet. "Time to kill some undead assholes," he announced. He looked at Sherry and said, "Do me a favor, kid. Stay behind me, okay?"

Sherry rolled her expressive blue eyes and tossed her honeyed hair. "Yeah, whatever," she muttered even as she stepped behind him.

Claire came to his side, standing close in the narrow hallway. "Just like old times," she murmured in a hushed voice.

Leon slanted her a warm glance. "I wouldn't have it any other way, honey."

She blushed at the murmured endearment and looked away. "Come on."

He stayed at her side as they made their way through the steel gray passage. A white line bisected the corridor, presumably to control the flow of traffic, and a bank of large windows showed an interesting view of the ocean. If just one of those broke, they were all screwed.

They came to a door and Leon halted them with a raised hand. He couldn't hear a damn thing through the steel door, he thought with frustration. They were going in blind. He tested the knob and it turned easily in his hand. He traded a surprisingly reckless glance with Claire before pushing it open.

Seven zombies turned their way as they stepped passed the door, and Leon brought the Striker up. He stepped to one side and began to fire, aiming up slightly to catch them in the head. He heard Claire's Desert Eagle boom next to him, and smiled slightly. The sharp retort of Sherry's Broken Butterfly sounded in his ear, and they made short work of the Zombies. Interestingly enough, all but one were missing their heads.

Leon approached it cautiously and blasted its head into pulp. "Try getting up after _that_," he told it tauntingly.

"Nice bit of overkill there, Kennedy." Billy was shaking his head even as he smiled. "You really do hate the Crimson Heads, don't you?"

"Hell, yes!" Leon quickly replaced the spent shells and looked down the split hallway. "Which side?"

"The left," Claire answered, already heading in that direction.

Leon jogged to catch up to her, not wanting her to go anywhere alone. "Is the lift in there?" She nodded, and he pulled out his trusty Zippo. "Let there be light."

She giggled as he lit it on the second try. She'd really missed Leon's sense of humor, strange and slightly warped though it was. She opened the door to airport's hangar and stepped inside. Leon stayed close to her, using the lighter to keep the bats at bay. He knew they were there by the high-pitched squeak coming from the surrounding shadows. At least, they were keeping their distance.

He followed Claire to the big computer panel, only to find that the power was already on. "This is way too easy," he muttered uneasily.

"Yeah," she agreed, "I was thinking the same thing. Chris, we need the crests, now."

Chris gave them to her and she inserted them into the proper slots on the lift's control panel. The three little lights turned green and the lift began to retract. She remembered the bridge at the last moment and turned to check it. Dread was quickly replaced with resignation. She should have known better.

"We have to raise the bridge," she announced, reloading the Magnum and closing it with a flick of her wrist. "Chris, you'll have to ready the plane for takeoff."

Chris, who was the only pilot among them, swore richly. "You're not going alone," he stated flatly, turning to Billy. "Go with her. Make sure she comes back in one piece."

"You've got it," Billy said soberly. He looked to Leon and raised an eyebrow. "You coming, Kennedy?"

Leon pumped the Striker once. "Count me in."

Chris looked like he was going to protest until his sister nodded. "We can always use another gun," she said, hiding a smile.

"Sherry?" Once he had her attention, Leon handed her his attaché case. "Hold onto to this until I get back, okay?"

She looked down at it before smiling at the implied promise. "Don't take too long, Dad."

"I won't." Leon looked at Claire and nodded once. "Lead the way."

"Wait." Chris stepped forward. "Take the map. Just in case."

Billy was the one who stepped forward and took it. He put it into his weapons pack and gave Rebecca a quick hug. "I'll see you in a few. Do me a favor and stay on the damn plane, alright?"

"I will," Rebecca assured him breathlessly. "Be careful, Billy."

"You too, little girl."

Claire smiled at her brother and took them back the way they had come. This time, they took the shudder on left, Leon and Billy both holding their lighters aloft to keep the bats away. They crossed the bridge easily, and went through the single gray door at the end.

Leon glanced around the room, taking in the large lift on the left, the steel grate covering the door ahead of them, and the small lift to the right of that. "Which way, now?"

"The lift, first," Claire answered. "After we raise the bridge, we'll have to use the cargo elevator in there," she gestured to the grate-covered door, "to get back to the plane."

They piled onto the tiny lift and went to the room above. Claire ignored the panel on their right, which overlooked the previous room. She went to the only other door and went inside. Leon jogged to catch up to her, cursing as her gun fired several times before he reached her.

She stood among a pile of dead bodies, each in varying stage of decomposition, and all missing their heads. "Took you long enough," she said archly.

"Damn it, Claire!" he yelled as fear gave way to anger. "Don't you ever do that, again! You could have been killed!"

Claire's eyes narrowed at him in a dangerous feminine warning. "I can take care of myself, Leon. I don't need anyone to save me. Especially, not _you_."

He stiffened at the barb, his face going blank. He turned away and went through the door. He heard Billy say something, but thankfully, the closing door cut off the sound. He saw the yellow-and-black striped panel to his left and quickly pulled the switch down. He watched as the bridge came up to his level and stepped onto it. He waited for Claire and Billy, knowing that they would be along as soon as Claire regained control of her temper.

Leon smiled bleakly to himself. And to think, he'd actually missed that part of her! He closed his eyes and leaned against one the bridge's support beams. He'd forgotten just how badly she could hurt him, and with very little effort. She was the only person who had ever had that power over him, and she had never been shy in doing so when she was angry.

The door opened behind him, and Leon slanted an unreadable glance over his shoulder. "The bridge is up," he said unnecessarily.

"Good," Billy stated rather grimly. "Let's get our asses back to the plane before something really goes wrong."

Claire remained silent, her gaze avoiding his, for which Leon was grateful. He had no desire to go another round with her. It had been his fault for yelling at her, and he knew it. Later, if there was time, he'd apologize. For now, he simply let it go.

"We have to go back," Billy told him, "and that lever you just pulled activated the big lift downstairs."

"More zombies?" Leon asked with a tired sigh.

Billy nodded. "Afraid so."

They went back to the room below, and unearthly moans immediately assaulted their ears. Leon muttered, "Fucking zombies," just before they began to fire. There was only one Crimson Head among the ten zombies, but damned if he didn't head straight for him. Leon barely got the Striker up in time to fire in its direction. The force of the blast took its head, and part of one shoulder. Its body shuffled aimlessly for a few seconds, pushing against him, before falling to the ground.

Leon shuddered as he shot at the few remaining zombies. The Crimson Heads would give him a bevy of new nightmares, he was sure. He was quickly learning to hate them. "Shit!" he exclaimed as they all lowered their guns. "I could've done without _that_."

"What is it about the zombies that bother you so much?" Billy asked, adding, "Besides the fact that they're nasty and smell bad and want to eat you, that is."

He hesitated before answering. "Out of everything I've seen, all of the creatures and B.O.W.s I've fought, the zombies are the ones that scare me most," he said finally. "I had dreams of being turned into one for years after Raccoon City."

"You never told me that," Claire said, her cerulean eyes wide.

Leon shrugged, his youthful features closing again. "It's not the kind of thing you want to admit to your girl, Claire."

Billy nodded his understanding. "I still have flashbacks from Africa," he offered, surprising them both. "If Rebecca hadn't seen me have one, I never would have told her I had them."

Claire watched Leon as he returned the nod and muttered, "Men." She dragged her gaze away, disturbed by the fact that he had hidden something so important from her. What else didn't she know?

Claire drew a deep breath. "We go straight ahead, now. We'll need a key, though."

Billy examined the lock intently. "It's a regular keyhole. We won't need a security card, or anything."

"Try this," Leon said, pulling the master key from his vest.

Billy raised an eyebrow but took it without comment. It looked too slender for the keyhole, but it was worth a shot. He inserted the key and attempted to turn it. It turned easily, and the steel grate began to lift. He eyed it for a moment before handing it back with a shrug. He wasn't going to bitch, or ask any questions. He was just glad it had worked.

Leon entered the room first, rolling his eyes at yet another gold-trimmed brown trunk and typewriter. What the hell was that thing doing in a place like this? he asked himself. Then, he remembered the crests and the wheel and sighed. Of course, there'd be something they needed in there. There always was.

"Another trunk," Claire said, echoing his sigh. "I'm really sick of these things."

"It sounds like I missed quite a party when I left Rebecca in the Arklay Mountains," Billy commented with amusement. At Leon's look, he explained, "Every time we've come across a trunk or a typewriter, someone's commented, or made a joke about it. Even Rebecca," he added as he opened it.

Inside sat two different files, one red, one green. The green file had "S.T.A.R.S." emblazoned across the front in gold letters. The red merely sported Leon's name, and nothing more, but it was done in a woman's flowery script.

"_Shit!"_ Leon cursed as he recognized Ada's handwriting. He snatched it up angrily, ignoring Claire and Billy's surprised expressions. He walked to the other end of the small storage room and opened the file.

_Leon, _

_I had no doubt that you'd make it this far, but things will get worse soon enough. This was the only way I could keep the promise I made so many years ago and give you the freedom that I was forced to steal from you. You probably won't thank me for this in the long run, regardless that it is what you've always wanted. Keep Sherry close to you. She is the only one you can truly trust in this. She has your best interests at heart, and the only answers you are ever going to get. Good luck, handsome, and watch your back. Things are not what they seem._

_XOXOXO _

He closed the folder with a scowl and tucked it away. Goddamn her and her cryptic bullshit, Leon thought heatedly. He had every intention of questioning Sherry about her presence here eventually, but he resented Ada's insistence that he do so. And to infer that he might regret gaining his freedom?!

Leon was filled with a sense of unease. He couldn't show the file to S.T.A.R.S. without telling them just what had happened eight years ago. And he couldn't risk their safety by doing so. Even supposing that they survived this, there was no guarantee that Ada wouldn't go after Claire once this was done. But, damn it, he had to do something!

He ran a hand through his tawny hair, and jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around to see Claire standing behind him, looking as surprised he felt. "Sorry," he muttered, stepping back.

"No problem." Claire studied him, her concern growing. He was pale, and there was a pinched look around his too-blue eyes that she had never seen before. "Leon, what is it?"

Leon shook his head, an unwilling smile coming to his lips. "What did your file say?" he asked in lieu of answer.

Her own lips twisted into a smile. "Beware of Hunters," she answered, her voice very dry.

"Great." Leon chuckled and strapped the Striker to his back, pulling out the Killer 7. "Well, any warning is better than none at all."

Billy's dark blue eyes flickered at the obvious evasion. "I'd never seen a Hunter that wasn't a hybrid before tonight," he commented idly. "I don't think I like them too much."

"No shit?" Leon grinned suddenly. "At least they stay dead, once you manage to kill them."

"True," Billy laughed in return. "For now though, we should probably get going."

They pushed the button and the cargo elevator's metal shutter lifted. They stepped onto the lift, which started automatically. Less than a minute later, it came to a stop and the shutter opened. They were in a large, rectangular courtyard, and the snarling he heard meant there were more Dobermans just lying in wait.

"Dogs," Claire said in a low voice, her .45 held out before her.

Billy only nodded and held his enhanced handgun tightly, pushing the stock firmly against his shoulder. Leon brought up the Killer 7 and took aim as the three dogs came rushing towards him. He took his down with two shots, Claire took hers with three. Billy emptied his magazine into the mutated Doberman, smiling with savage satisfaction as it yelped and dropped to the ground.

He took out another clip and slammed it home. "Those weren't Hunters," he said to no one in particular.

"No, those will be out on the walkway," Claire reassured him wearily, remembering the two Bandersnatchers that had ambushed her there. "And probably in greater numbers."

Leon eyed the semi-automatic handgun Billy held with worry. "Do you have enough ammo for that thing?" he asked as he reloaded his own gun.

"Hopefully," Billy said with a shrug.

"I've got extra ammo in my attaché case if you need it," Leon offered.

Billy considered him for a long moment. "Thanks, I'll probably take you up on that later."

"Cool." Leon looked at Claire and a smile came all too easily. "You ready, honey?"

Claire smiled back, her breath catching. "Yeah, I'm ready," she said breathlessly.

"Then, lead the way," Leon told her gently. "I have no idea where we are."

She flushed, punching Billy on the arm when he laughed. "Stow it, Coen," she snapped, reloading and flouncing towards the double doors right next to the elevator.

Leon stuck close to her, determined not to let anything happen to her. Logically, he knew that Claire could take of herself, but emotionally. . .Let's face it, Kennedy. You're a wreck when it comes to Claire Redfield, and that's never going to change.

He told that little voice in his head to shut up as he heard the distinctive click of the Hunters' overlarge nails on the stone bridge to his right. He saw the reflection of four sets of reptilian eyes in the moonlight and cursed soundly. His gun came up and he fired on the first. It squealed and dropped to the ground, only to spring up again. He shot it and pumped two more shots into it.

It stayed down and he quickly took the one Billy was having trouble with. He killed it, ignoring its death-squeal, and pumped a round into the one Claire had just dropped. A poll of liquid spread out on the ground beneath it, just as another jumped over it. Leon dropped to his back and fired. After two shots, the Killer 7 clicked dry, and he threw his arms up to try to hold it off.

Claire had already reloaded and was firing into its side. It collapsed on him, that damned squeal sounding in his ear. Leon frantically pushed it off of him, not wanting to be covered in mutated blood. He scrambled backwards before he regained his feet, doing his best not to let relief take him back down to the stone pavement.

"Fuck!" Leon grabbed onto the ledge and glared at the empty gun in his hand. "That's it!" he exclaimed as he reloaded it with jerky movements. "No more low-capacity guns. I don't care how powerful they are, it's just not worth it."

Claire and Billy were staring at him, and he glared at them. "What?"

"Nothing," Billy said quickly, backing away.

Claire bit her lip as she fought the urge to laugh her ass off. It really wasn't all that funny, and seeing Leon go down like that had scared her to death. "Are you okay?" she managed evenly, proud that she didn't even giggle a little.

Leon drew a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Come on," he said abruptly and started towards the end of the bridge.

He was walking so fast that she had to jog to keep up with them. Billy, who had to be at least six-foot-two, wasn't having any problems. She had long legs herself, but not _that_ long. "Guys!" she called breathlessly, "Wait up!"

Leon looked down from the top of the stone stairs, his hand on the latch, and paused. Claire was running to keep up with them, and guilt flooded him as he realized that they had almost left her behind. He extended his hand as she approached, loving the feel of her skin against his, even in this innocent way.

He smiled at her almost shyly as they went through the doors. The dogs that S.T.A.R.S. had killed earlier were still there, but no new surprises greeted them. They took the submarine back to the airport and took the lift to the plane. Leon reluctantly released her hand as the boarded, knowing that it would make her brother angry, not to mention Sherry's reaction.

The plane was a tight fit, but manageable. Rebecca sat at the communications console, and Jill in the co-pilot's seat. Carlos was sitting on the small stairs that led to Rebecca's seat. He had to squeeze himself to one side as Billy stomped past him to get to Rebecca. Sherry stood against a panel not far behind Jill, her expression showing her distrust as she watched S.T.A.R.S. Leon send her a smile as he and Claire approached the pilot's seat.

Chris sat at the controls, frowning as he tried unsuccessfully to disengage the autopilot. "We've got a problem here, Claire."

"What is it?" Claire asked with alarm, rushing to his side.

"The autopilot's on and I haven't been able to disengage it," he told her soberly.

"Just like before." She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "So, we're going back to Antarctica," she stated in a hoarse whisper.

"Yeah, it looks like it." Chris reached out and took her hand in his. "I'm sorry, Claire. I'd spare you this if I could."

Claire squeezed his hand once before pulling away. "Just keep us in the sky, big brother. I'll take care of the Tyrant."

"Claire. . ." He sighed heavily. "Take Leon with you, at least. I don't want you facing that thing alone when you don't have to."

"I'll protect her," Leon assured him quietly. "My life for hers, if it comes to that."

Chris fought the urge to smile at the earnest expression the younger man was wearing. As much as he wanted to beat the shit out of Leon Scott Kennedy, he knew that the other man would keep his word. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that, Leon."

Leon's gaze moved to Claire and he extended his hand once more, suddenly not caring what anyone thought. "Come on," he said in a soft voice. "Let's kill this thing and get it over with."

"This isn't the end," she warned him as she slid her hand into his. "We still have Antarctica."

"We'll worry about that when we get there." He grasped her hand tightly and pulled her to the back of the plane. The words, "Cargo Hold," were painted onto the door, and he paused. "Are you sure about this, Claire? We haven't heard an alarm, yet."

Just then, an alarm sounded through the plane's communications system. "Wonderful," he sighed, his hand tightening around hers before he forced himself to release it. "Jill, would you mind if I borrowed your grenade launcher for a few minutes?"

Jill immediately stepped forward and gave it to him. "Do you need more rounds?" she asked with concern.

Leon just shook his head. "It isn't for me." He pressed it into Claire's hands with a faint smile. "You were always better with this thing than I was."

Claire met his gaze with brilliant blue eyes. "I'm with you, Leon."

He nodded, ducking his head a bit in the endearing gesture she remembered so well, and stepped through the door. The giant monstrosity rose up through the open hatch at the back of the plane. Leon wasted no time in shooting it with the Striker, trying to prevent its slow but gradual approach. The enhanced, steel shotgun boomed loudly, and he heard the quieter thump of the Claire's grenade launcher at his side. After the twelfth shot it finally staggered, stumbling back about five feet. Its head became visible as it lowered, caught in the blinking red glare of the alarm light, and Leon caught a glimpse of something strange.

It had red hair, he realized with surprise. He'd never seen a Tyrant or a Nemesis with hair of any kind--unless you counted William Birkin--and it was fucking weird. He kept shooting, hoping vainly to keep it stunned. He heard Claire gasp, "Steve!", and then she was scrambling back, away from him and through the steel door.

"Claire?!" he yelled, concerned by her uncharacteristic retreat. He continued to blast away as he sought to follow her, only to find the door locked. Claire had locked him out of the only safe place in the plane?! The Tyrant rose to its full, impressive height, and it's alternating red/green eyes narrowed on him with what he'd have sworn was hatred.

He kept firing, desperate now that his backup was gone. Without Claire's grenade's, he wasn't so sure he could take the damned thing. It began its slow approach towards him and he wondered if he was going to die here. He noticed a panel on the wall to his left and realized that it was a control panel for the cargo release. He did his best to keep the Striker trained on the beast as his left hand reached for the button. The shotgun jumped and bucked, and he lowered it to make the most of the recoil. He finally got it to hesitate and hit the button, praying this would work.

The Tyrant swatted its big claw and the crate came flying back at him. Too late, he tried to dodge and was knocked down by the big wooden box. Pain exploded through his mid-section and he sucked in his breath. He pushed it away and kept firing, cursing as he tried to gain his feet and failed. The sedative was still slowing his reflexes, and the pain was threatening to pull his concentration away from him.

He was going to die, Leon thought with fatalism, even as he pulled the Killer 7 from his tactical vest. He'd never get a chance to explain things to Claire, or to tell her that he still loved her. He was going to be killed by a red-headed mutant monster, and there was nothing he could do about it. Except shoot at it in a vain attempt to take it with him.

He blasted away with both guns, no longer expecting to Claire to come back. He finally stumbled to his feet and hit the button again. This time, the Tyrant was pushed over the edge and out of the plane. Leon slumped against the door, closing his eyes as it dawned on him that he hadn't died, despite Claire's desertion.

No! Leon told himself sharply. Claire hadn't deserted him. Even now, he could feel the vibrations as she pounded on the door, could _almost_ hear her voice as she screamed his name. Maybe he was just fooling himself, but he didn't think so. Claire was high-strung, but she was reliable. He knew that something she'd seen in the Tyrant had scared her, and it had sent her staggering back in pure shock. He'd heard the door lock behind her, and he knew that it wasn't a manual lock. He also knew Claire Redfield well enough to know that she didn't cut and run. Whatever had spooked her about this particular Tyrant had been important.

The door opened behind him, and he found himself falling backwards. Strong arms caught him and dragged him back into the cockpit. Billy eased him to the ground, propping him up against an electrical panel. Rebecca crouched beside him and began to run her hands over him. He winced when she touched his left side and she immediately lifted his shirt.

"How does this feel?" she asked, her voice brisk and professional as she probed the area. "You're ribs don't feel broken."

"They're not broken, just bruised," Leon said hoarsely, his gaze moving beyond her to find Claire, whose face was streaked with tears. "Are you alright?"

Claire choked back a sob and rushed to him. She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands shaking as they touched his face. "God, I'm so sorry, Leon," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to leave you like that. The door wouldn't open, and I couldn't get back through, and--"

"Hey, it's okay." Leon took her face in his hands and managed a crooked smile. "I managed to knock it out of the plane with those huge cargo crates. I'm not completely helpless, you know."

She wrapped her hands around his and dropped her head to his shoulder. "I thought you were going to die," she whispered thickly. "It would have been all my fault. I couldn't live through that, again."

Yeah, so did I, Leon thought and immediately pushed the selfish thought aside. "Don't cry," he told her in a shaky voice, running a hand over her ponytail. "I'm fine, Claire. A little bruised, but whole. See?"

He urged her head up and wiped the moisture from her face with his thumbs. "No more tears, honey. Please," he added pleadingly.

Claire sniffed and nodded. Leon had never been able to handle it when she cried. She'd nearly lost him, she thought even as she attempted a smile. Leon Scott Kennedy, who would give you the shirt off his back if you asked, the young and idealistic rookie cop who had saved her and Sherry's lives one night in Hell. He'd almost died because seeing Steve again, _that way_, had caught her off guard.

It wouldn't happen, again, Claire swore to herself. Leon might be a highly skilled government agent, but there some things that no one could do alone. Taking on Steve Burnside in his Tyrant form was one of them. She wouldn't let herself be taken by surprise, again.

Sherry watched as Claire threw herself into the co-pilot's seat and attempted to pull herself together. Good old Dad had immediately forgiven her for freaking out and almost costing him his life. Sherry wasn't going to be so forgiving.

Claire had been upset, sure. She'd come in yelling, "It's Steve! It's Steve!" before she'd realized just what she had done. Yeah, she'd picked up the grenade launcher and tried to get back in, screaming Leon's name and pounding on the steel door dramatically, but it hadn't changed the fact that she'd left him out there in the first place. Sherry had seen what the Tyrant-111 could do, and she knew that Leon was damn lucky to be alive.

Leon saw the play of emotions chasing themselves across Sherry's unguarded features with a sense of dread. He'd known from her letters that she was angry with Claire for what she saw as her desertion. He just hadn't realized how deep that anger went. He'd tried to explain Claire's actions over the years, but a part of himself that he wasn't too fond of had agreed. Claire had gone to France to find her brother, the most important person in her life. She'd been looking for him in Raccoon City when they'd met, and he'd always known that he and Sherry had taken second place to Chris Redfield.

Like him, Sherry was an only child. She didn't quite understand the bond that Claire shared with her older sibling. Leon himself understood it, he'd just never experienced it. When Claire had said that it wasn't over, that she still had to find her brother, Leon had agreed. He'd been willing to do whatever it took to help her find Chris. He just hadn't been willing to be left behind like so much unwanted trash.

Leon sighed as Rebecca bandaged his ribs. If only Claire had waited long enough for him to earn the money for he and Sherry to go with her. But no, she'd been all fired up, saying that they could meet her there when they had the money. She hadn't been able to put the family they'd made first, and they had all suffered for it.

"Am I hurting you?" Rebecca asked in her high, breathy voice.

He shook his head negatively, dredging up a smile for the girl who'd always been so nice to him. "I've been through worse, Becca. But thank you," he added politely.

Billy Coen crouched at her back, his midnight eyes watching them both like a hawk. Leon knew from what Rebecca had said that she didn't believe him guilty of the twenty-three murders he'd been accused of. He also knew that he'd been declared legally dead after the incident in the Arkham Mountains on Rebecca's word. Leon knew that he had joined S.T.A.R.S. under an assumed identity. He'd read about their latest member, although he'd had a different name in the report Leon had been given.

Coen had been Special Ops, Marine Force Recon, before the massacre in Africa that had resulted in his court-martial. He'd been a fugitive for eight years, for all that he'd made a home with S.T.A.R.S. in Montana. Although, he was presumed dead, the military was taking no chances. Every soldier and agent in America had orders to shoot to kill if they ever saw him.

Not that Leon cared much what the government wanted. They'd taken his life away from him, and to this day he hated them for it. If he survived this fucking test, he was going to quit. No more insane missions to rural villages in Europe, no more putting up with Ashley Graham's teenage flirtations while he attempted to protect her. And _definitely_ no more fucking Umbrella B.O.W.s!

If Ada went back on her word and denied him his freedom, he'd come clean with S.T.A.R.S. and leave Sherry with them for protection. Then, he'd gear up and go after the bastards that had done this to him. He'd take out as many as he could before they killed him, and he'd die a happy man. At least, his daughter and his wife would be safe.

That was how he thought of Sherry and Claire. It didn't matter that they'd been separated, or that he hadn't worked up the nerve to propose before things had fallen apart. Claire was his wife, just as William Birkin's daughter was his own. Bloodlines didn't mean a damn thing to him, and never would.

Leon tore his thoughts away from his problems. He focused on Billy, who seemed so possessive of Rebecca that Leon half expected him to start grunting and swinging a club at any time. "So, how do you like being a member of S.T.A.R.S.?" Leon asked him curiously.

Billy was surprised by the question, and not sure how to respond. "I'm not running anymore," he said finally. "I've got a roof over my head, three squares a day, and a regular paycheck. It works."

"You'd get all of that in prison," Leon felt compelled to point out.

Those cobalt eyes moved to Rebecca, and Billy's expression softened. "Yeah, but I have a feeling I wouldn't like my roomie so much there."

Rebecca blushed, her gray eyes meeting her lover's. Billy smiled and brushed a gentle hand over her short light brown hair. "What about you?" he threw back, quirking one dark eyebrow. "How do you like being a secret agent for the good 'ole U.S. of A.?"

Leon snorted at that. "I've got a fancy apartment that I never see, and my charge is a nineteen-year-old girl who's convinced that we're perfect for each other. What do you think?"

Carlos shared a laugh with Jill. "Sounds like the perfect job, _amigo_."

"You _would_ think so," Jill said, her tone mild even as she threw an ammo clip at his head. She gazed at Leon with amused sympathy. "If you're so unhappy with your work, why do you stay?"

His expression hardened as he dropped his gaze and shrugged. "It pays the bills," he said with forced carelessness. "What about all of you? Why did you reform S.T.A.R.S. instead doing the normal thing?"

Jill watched Leon's youthful features shut down with concern. Leon had always been so open and honest. What happened in the last eight years to change him so much? "And just what is normal, Leon?"

He paused at the question. "Hell if I know, Jill."

Chris sat silently in the pilot's seat, listening to the others as they talked. He'd noticed something about Leon, and his instincts told him that it was important. Whenever he was asked his life, or the eight years he'd been in D.C., he either made a joke or changed the subject. Leon had always been a horrible liar, so he didn't even bother to try. He just brushed the subject of his past aside as though it didn't matter.

Claire had become nearly hysterical when she'd realized that Leon was trapped in the cargo bay with the Tyrant. Whatever her feelings for Steve Burnside might have been, there was no questioning her love for Leon Kennedy. Leon's own reactions to Claire hinted that he wasn't over her, either. And still, Leon hadn't offered any explanations for his disappearing act eight years ago.

Damn it, he knew that Leon had loved his sister. After they had returned from Europe, he and Claire had looked for Leon and Sherry. His sister had been frantic, sure that something bad had happened to them, that Umbrella had either killed or kidnapped them. All the neighbors in that rattrap apartment building they'd lived in had been worried by his sudden disappearance, and had remarked on how heartbroken the poor kid had seemed after his girlfriend had moved out. They spent more than ten months looking for them, but they'd simply disappeared.

Claire's life had changed after that. She'd quit college, unable to return to the 'normal' life she'd had before Raccoon City. She'd badgered him until he'd given in and let her join the anti-Umbrella task force they'd formed out of the remnants of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo and Alpha Teams. He'd trained her himself, making sure that his little sister had all the skills necessary to survive the harsh life she'd chosen for herself.

Claire had done exceptionally well, though she was still too impulsive for his liking. She rarely dated, and when she did meet a guy, her forceful personality sent him packing within weeks. She'd told him once that she compared all of the men she met to her big brother, and that Leon was the only one who'd ever measured up.

To this day, she still carried the R.P.D. badge he'd left behind in her waist-pack. She had never forgotten Leon Kennedy, and she had never stopped loving him. If they survived this, Chris was going to corner the bastard and demand an explanation. He'd beat the truth out him out of him if he had to, but he had to know why Leon had hurt his sister so badly.

He ran a hand over his face wearily. He felt a hand on his shoulder and clasped it gratefully. Jill was always there, the one true constant in his life. She was calm under pressure, fully capable of taking command of any situation. And she loved him.

Chris smiled to himself and brought her hand to his cheek. They'd been friends and teammates for years before they'd gotten involved. She was still his best friend, the one person who could talk him out of his temper, and make him feel better without saying a word.

He'd always promised her marriage, once they'd taken Umbrella down for good. Then they'd get another message from their 'anonymous' source, and it would get pushed to the back burner again.

Not anymore, Chris thought as he turned and smiled up at her. After they survived this, he was going to marry her. He didn't care if it was in a church or a judge's chambers, so long as they were joined legally. She could keep her name is she wanted to, though he liked the thought of his love becoming Jill Redfield.

Jill smiled down at him, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "You should try to get some sleep," she told him in a murmur. "You look exhausted, Chris."

"I'm okay, babe." He slid his arms around her and rested his head against her stomach. He felt her hands sift through his hair and closed his eyes. "We're getting married, you know."

She uttered a low, nearly soundless laugh. "Promises, promises, Redfield."

He gave her a warning squeeze. "You want a church, or a courthouse, or a Vegas chapel?"

"Anything but Elvis," Jill said with a shudder. "How about the back yard?"

He frowned briefly. "I'd have to mow it first."

Her fingers yanked on his hair gently. "You'll live, Redfield."

He grunted and reluctantly pulled away. "I suppose I will." He grinned and looked at his sister. "It'll be worth it if I get to see Claire in a dress."

Claire, who had been studiously trying to ignore the intimate conversation, scowled at his words. "You suck, Chris."

Carlos came up behind her and leered licentiously. "I'd pay to see that, Redfield."

"Oh, you will," Chris told him dryly. "After all, I won't be the only one wearing a tux."

"_Mierda,_" he swore flatly. "Your _pequena_ is right, Chris--you suck."

Billy laughed evilly. "I can't wait to see Romeo here in black-tie-and- tails."

"You'll be there too," Jill reminded him with a smile.

"Yeah, so?" Billy threw a wink at her, knowing it would tick Redfield off. "I had to wear a Marine uniform for years. A tux is nothing."

"I think you'll all look very handsome," Rebecca said diplomatically as she put her supplies away.

"And we'll all be equally uncomfortable," Chris laughed, "but if I have to wear one, so do both of you."

Leon listened to them laugh with downcast eyes. It was all so easy for them, he thought bitterly. No matter what happened, they always had each other. He knew that they hadn't had an easy time fighting Umbrella, but at least they hadn't been alone.

Dammitt, you know better than this, he chastised himself sternly. It had been his decision to cut off all contact with them. That Ada hadn't left him with much of a choice was irrelevant. He could have taken that risk and tried to arrange a meeting with Chris. He could have explained the situation and begged for S.T.A.R.S.'s help. Sherry and Claire _might_ have survived Ada's retaliation, even though he probably wouldn't have.

Leon just didn't know any more. He wasn't a risk taker by nature. He was cautious in almost everything that he did. He always had been. He might have been young when he'd met S.T.A.R.S., but he definitely hadn't been reckless. Claire had been different.

He smiled as he thought of her. God, she had been fearless! She had taken on zombies and Lickers and Tyrants without batting an eye. She had saved Sherry's life when even though the child's very presence had to have slowed her down. She'd even gone back into that damned lab to find the cure for the G-virus parasite that William Birkin had infected Sherry with. It hadn't mattered to her that monsters lurked around every corner, waiting to devour anything that crossed their path.

Leon had always been a little in awe of her. He'd been the cop, the one trained to deal with violence. It had been his job to protect her. She had been a regular college student before coming to Raccoon City. A civilian certainly, but Claire Redfield was no damsel in distress. She had protected him too, even if she _had_ insisted on having her own way. She had infuriated him with her stubbornness, and stolen his heart with her courage.

And she had built a life for herself that didn't include him. Claire Redfield was more of a survivor than he would ever be.

Leon looked at Sherry and waved her forward. She crouched beside him and placed the attaché case in his lap. He smiled faintly, still a little disturbed by her military-like obedience, before opening the case. He put the Killer 7 away, and traded it for the .50 caliber Handcannon. He had purchased this from the mysterious merchant in Europe, one of the few Los Ganados who hadn't been controlled by Osmund Saddler. He had paid two-hundred thousand native _Pestas_ for an exclusive upgrade that allowed it to hold as many bullets as he happened to have for it. Hell of a gun to have in a pinch.

He took out the Matilda, one of his favorite semi-automatic pistols, and held it out to Billy. "Give this a try," he told the other man, adding, "It holds two-hundred and fifty rounds, and fires them even faster than the enhanced Beretta you're using."

Billy looked it over and tested its balance. "Any more ammo?" he asked, causing Leon to laugh.

"I guess, I'm not the only one into overkill," Leon said as he gave him two boxes containing thirty bullets a piece.

"Hey, if it works. . ." he quipped, not bothering to finish the old line.

Rebecca shook her head, her pale green eyes locked on her lover. "So long as it keeps you alive, I'm all for it," she said in a soft voice.

Billy looked down at her, his fine features softening. "Here," he said gently, pressing the Beretta into her hands. "For my peace of mind, okay?"

She took it, a blush staining her cheeks. She busied herself with rearranging her waist-pack to make room for it. Leon gave her his remaining box of .9 millimeter bullets and settled back. He gave Sherry's hand a reassuring squeeze before closing his eyes. He was still exhausted, and he hoped to could sleep the effects of sedative away. After all, Antarctica was a long ways away.


	2. Antarctica

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in the work below. If I did, RE4 would have had zombies instead of bugs!

Synopsis: T-virus, G-virus, T-Veronica virus, Las Plagas. . .you get the drift. (The first two sections are for all of you who missed Leon in CVX.)

Author's Note: I made a few artistic changes (like with the identity of the Tyrant in the plane), but hopefully, you'll like what I've done. Beta'd by Littlehouseinthewoods, who's been forced to take a crash-course in zombies as a result. So, everybody thank her!

* * *

Chapter Two: Antarctica

A hand on his shoulder shook Leon into consciousness. He opened bleary eyes to find Sherry crouched over him, her fine features pinched with worry. "There's been a malfunction with the engines," she said without preamble. "We're going down, Leon. Grab hold of something."

He cursed and pushed himself to his feet. The only handhold he could find was the handle of the electronically locked cargo door. He gripped it tightly and prayed that it stayed closed. Otherwise, he was screwed.

They hit the ground hard, the thick safety glass of the windows cracking, the massive frame shuddering violently. The small plane rose in the air and rebounded, and the windows gave way. Leon threw an arm over his face as he heard shards of glass strike the walls around him. The plane settled into a rough slide, metal creaking and moaning as the frame began to come apart.

It slid into something massive, and Leon lost his hold. The impact threw him forward, and he twisted to avoid landing on someone else. He struck the ground, the air leaving his lungs in a rush. He fought off panic as he struggled to draw breath. His lungs decided to work again and he gulped down air. He pushed himself up and looked around. Chris, Jill, and Carlos stirred first. They all looked relatively unharmed, although Chris had a nasty gash above his left eye.

"Is anyone hurt?" Chris called as he stumbled towards Jill.

Jill was shaking her head as she let him pull her to her feet. "I'm fine. Check the others."

Leon was already clearing a pile of snow-covered debris. One small, booted foot was sticking out, and he was swearing as he worked. Jill helped him as Chris checked Carlos for injuries. It was Rebecca who had been buried, with Coen's body curled protectively over her.

"Fuck!" Leon hissed, his expression frantic as he whirled around.

Jill calmed him with a hand on the arm. "Find Sherry and Claire. I've got them."

He looked at her with wild blue eyes before nodding curtly. He found them together, with Claire protecting Sherry as Billy had Rebecca. "Oh, God," he groaned as his worst nightmare suddenly came to life. He reached out with a suddenly shaky hand. "Sherry? Claire?"

Sherry groaned upon hearing her name. Her pale blue eyes fluttered open, then widened when she saw Claire. "Claire?!"

Leon turned Claire over as gently as he could. Sherry scrambled to her knees beside him, her slender body shaking. "Leon?" she questioned in a child-like voice.

"Stay calm," he ordered in a harsh voice. She bit her bottom lip and nodded. He began to check Claire for broken bones. He didn't find any, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. She had a few random cuts on her arms, but they were small and clean, probably from the flying glass. He checked her head and found a good-sized lump, which prompted a low moan from the woman in his arms.

"Thank God," he muttered even as her eyes opened. She blinked up at him with wide blue eyes, a smile slowly curving her lips. He returned it and slowly helped her sit up. "How's your head, honey?"

"It was fine until you touched it," Claire grumbled, embarrassed that had seen her staring at him like an infatuated schoolgirl. Or even worse, an infatuated ex-girlfriend.

"Any nausea?" Leon asked somberly. "Dizziness? Blurred vision?"

"No, I'm fine." At his worried look, she sighed. "I don't have a concussion, Leon. I promise. Now, will you let me up?"

He realized that he still had his arms around her and blushed hotly. "Sorry," he said, quickly backing away.

Chris took his spot and pulled her into his arms. "Don't bitch at him, Claire. We were all worried about you."

"I'm okay, Chris." Claire looked at Sherry, who's skin was chalk white. "What about you, sweetie? Are you hurt?"

Sherry shook her head negatively, confused by Claire's actions. Why had she protected her with her own body? Why was she so worried about her, now? After all, she hadn't given her a thought for eight years! She sent a confused look to Leon, who only sighed and extended his hand. She flew to him, her only anchor in a world she no longer understood. His arms came around her, and suddenly it was all right.

"I told you, you were wrong," he murmured into her ear. Her only response was to burrow closer, and he let it go. Someday, she would understand why Claire hadn't come to her rescue. He only hoped that she would forgive him once she did.

Leon's gaze swept the ruined cockpit with a sigh. Carlos sat on a pile of debris, his M-16 cradled in his arms. Billy sat a few feet away, talking quietly to Rebecca as she wrapped a bandage around his swollen right ankle. Chris, Jill, and Claire were all huddled together, Claire spraying the cut on his forehead with first aid spray, and Jill covering it with a bandage.

They had survived the crash and were in relatively good shape, but they all needed rest. And he needed to have a talk with Chris Redfield. "Billy, do you still have the map?" he asked into the quiet.

"No, I've got it." Chris rose to his feet and pulled it out of his tactical vest. He handed it to Leon with a shrewd look. "What did you have in mind?"

"I think that you and I should scout ahead," Leon told him. Sherry lifted her head to protest, and he silenced her with a look. "You've been here before, and that will come in handy. We can clear the first few rooms and give everybody a chance to rest."

Chris held his gaze for a moment longer and before inclining his head. "I agree," he said evenly, managing a civil smile for his sister's benefit. "We can assess the damage from the crash, while we're at it."

Leon nodded as he opened the map. "This place looks like it's some kind of dome. We should make sure it's not going to fall on our heads once we're under it."

"It's glass, too." Chris stabbed a finger at a certain L-shaped hallway. "This corridor leads to an office. At the other end is a small factory. It leads to a weapons storage room, a Bioweapons room, and a power room."

"What about this door?" Leon asked, pointing at a single door not too far from the hallway.

"That was a sleeping area for the workers." Chris paused. "There were a lot of zombies in there, but the facility map was in there, too."

"And this set of double doors at the bottom of the ladder?"

"The second floor of the production factory. It was almost completely iced over. There was a valve in the. . .machine room?" He looked over his shoulder, and Claire nodded in confirmation.

"More zombies, too," she said softly.

Leon grunted. "Figures." He folded the map and took out the TMP. He strapped it to his back in place of the Striker, and palmed the Handcannon. "Let me know when you're ready to go."

Chris looked at his sister and his lover and said, "Give me a minute."

Leon took the opportunity to pull Sherry aside. "I need to talk to Chris," he told her bluntly. "Can you handle being alone with them for a little while longer?"

Sherry lifted her chin and smiled coolly. "You're coming back?" she questioned, her voice utterly calm.

"I would never willingly leave you, Sherry." He dug up a smile for his surrogate daughter. "I'll come back, and we'll get out of this together. You have my word."

Her blue eyes flickered before she nodded curtly. "Be careful, Leon."

"I will." He stepped back and turned to find Chris waiting by the hole that had once been the plane's nose. They left the plane in silence, both grateful that the frozen glass dome above them had broken, but not shattered.

Leon followed him down the ladder to the first floor, pausing at the top of a short set of stairs. "Anything in the hall I should know about?"

"Moths," Chris replied wryly. "Giant, poisonous, egg-laying moths."

"Of course," Leon returned, remembering the moth that had attacked him in Raccoon City. "Any idea how many?"

Chris shrugged. "There was a nest of them there. No matter how many I killed, they just kept coming."

"Why am I not surprised?" Leon muttered caustically. "We go straight to the office, then?"

"Yeah." Chris held his shotgun before him. "You want to go first?"

Leon laughed shortly. "Why not?" He brought the Handcannon up and jogged down the stairs. He heard the buzz almost immediately, and groaned soundlessly as the noise was magnified. Definitely more than one. He hit the hall running, blocking out the horrifying sight of dead bodies in giant cocoons suspended from the ceiling. He went straight for the door at the end and kicked it open. He swung himself out of the way as Chris came barreling in, and slammed it shut behind him. Too late, he thought of the key he had in his attaché case and began to laugh. God, Chris was going to be pissed when he told him that he had it!

Chris eyed him warily as he doubled over, clutching his stomach, tears streaming from his eyes. "What?" he asked guardedly. "Did you get poisoned or something?"

"N-No." Leon gasped for breath as he tried to control the laughter. He swiped at his eyes and grinned like a maniac. "I found a master key back at the Ashford place, and I keep forgetting that I have it."

"Uh-huh." Chris just shook his head, trying not to smile. He understood that this was just the younger man's way of dealing with the stress he was under. But he sure as hell wasn't going to encourage him. "Would you be willing to hand it over, seeing as how I don't kick in every door I see?"

"You got it." Leon dug it out and gave it to him. "It's all yours, Chris."

Chris just frowned as he looked the simple skeleton key. "This won't work on electronic locks, Leon."

Leon shrugged and dropped to the velvet-covered bench. "It should work on everything else, though. Maybe, it'll save us some backtracking."

"God, that'd be nice." Chris hesitated before taking a seat next to him. He looked around the room, remembering the last time he'd been here, and how he and Claire both had almost died. Leon might not have been with them here, but he'd known about it. Without his email, Chris might never have found Claire and rescued her from Wesker's insanity.

Now, they had been lured back with rumors of an Umbrella resurrection. And who do they run into but one Leon Kennedy, Secret Service agent and former teammate? And little Sherry Birkin, all grown up and sporting an arsenal that was nearly identical to Leon's? Chris didn't believe in coincidence. Leon knew more about this than he was letting on, and Chris wanted answers.

He leveled cold blue eyes on the younger man. "Why am I here, Leon?"

"This is a test, of sorts. A gauntlet, if you will." Leon looked down, running his hand over the Handcannon. "Someone--I don't know who--set this up just for us. I know that it probably wasn't Umbrella, unless they went so far underground that even _my_ contacts can't find them. It's not the Los Illuminados, because I took care of them myself. I think this is a government trial, but to test what, I don't know. I'm not sure what lies at the end, but--"

Chris grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and jerked him close. "Did you set this up?" he growled, his voice dripping with rage. "Is this _your_ test, Special Agent Kennedy?"

"No!" Leon stared, aghast. This was the last reaction he'd expected. "For God's sake, Chris. Do you really think I'd do something like this? This is my nightmare, too!"

The other man gave him a hard shake. "Then, who's doing it, if not you?"

Leon knocked his hands away and jumped to his feet. He felt his eyes fill with tears and quickly blinked them away. Is this what S.T.A.R.S. really thought of him? Is this what _Claire_ believed him capable of?!

"How could you believe that I'm capable of this?" he asked, his voice husky despite his best efforts. "I may not have been there, but you have to know that I've done everything possible to help S.T.A.R.S. over the years."

"And how do I know that?" Chris snapped as he stood to face him. "You send us anonymous emails every so often. So what? I wouldn't even know it was you if I hadn't had Claire--you remember her, right?--piggyback the signals back to your personal computer."

"You stayed as far away from us as you could," he continued angrily, "and you never even gave us an explanation. And now we've been lured to a recreation of Claire's worst nightmare, and we find you and Sherry Birkin waiting for us. Tell me, Leon, what am I supposed to think?"

Leon endured the tirade in silence, but inwardly he was seething. Chris had no idea what Sherry had gone through, what he himself had done to keep them safe. He and Sherry had lost any semblance of a normal life, while they had lived theirs in relative safety. He had to force down a flood of resentment in the face of Chris' anger. The other man had a right to his feelings. Leon only hoped that the truth would make a difference. Sherry's life might very well depend on it.

"I did not set this up," he said through clenched teeth. "I'm as much a victim here as you are. Maybe more so, because I didn't come here willingly, I was drugged and dumped here."

Chris crossed his arms over his chest. "And Birkin's daughter?"

"Sherry is _my_ daughter." Cobalt eyes narrowed dangerously, and Leon reined his temper in, attempting to keep this civil. "I don't honestly know what Sherry is doing here. I haven't talked to her in months, but I can't see them exposing her to this kind of danger. She must have found a way out on her own."

"A way out of what?" Chris asked with frustration. "Quit talking in riddles, Kennedy. Tell me what you mean."

Leon ran a hand through his blond hair in a weary gesture. Chris was never going to believe him, especially not in his current state of mind. But he was out of options. Sherry needed protection, and he'd do anything to secure it, even humble himself before Claire's overprotective brother.

"I need help, Chris. I don't have anyone else I can trust."

Chris scowled, not happy with the change of conversation. "What the hell are talking about, Leon?"

He sat down on the bench, resting his elbows on his thighs. "I need S.T.A.R.S. to protect Sherry," he said quietly.

Chris stared down him with surprised eyes. "Protect her from what?"

Leon sighed. "The U.S. government."

"Son of a bitch," Chris swore. "What have you done, Leon?"

"Nothing that they haven't forced me to do, Chris."

Chris took a seat at the end of the bench. "Tell me," he said abruptly.

"About a week after Claire left us, I had some visitors. Some asshole C.I.A. agents."

Chris' sapphire eyes sharpened. "What did the C.I.A. want with you?"

Leon got up and stood against the opposite wall, his gaze on his gun. "It wasn't just me that they wanted. Sherry has a natural immunity to the Umbrella virus. They said that they wanted to use the anti-bodies in her blood to develop an anti-serum."

"Fuck." Chris was torn between wanting to shove his teeth down his throat, and believing the sincerity in his too-quiet voice. "Keep going, Kennedy."

"I told them that she'd been through enough. That they couldn't have her." Leon shut his eyes as the memories ripped through him. "They told me that they already had her, and that if I didn't cooperate, I'd never see her again."

Chris folded his arms over his chest. "And what did they want with you?"

"I don't know." At his disbelieving look, Leon shrugged. "They threw me into this secret, Black Ops organization. They partnered me with a guy named Jack Krauser, and--"

"The legendary Navy Seal?" he cut in, his disbelief evident.

Leon's lips twisted bitterly. "Yeah, that was him. The fucking bastard."

Chris drew a deep breath. Krauser hadn't been known for his kindness. "What else?" he asked finally.

Crystal blue eyes cut to his. "Jack was my partner, Chris, but Ada Wong was my jailer."

"The woman who saved your life in Raccoon City?" he asked incredulously. "The one that died?"

"The same," Leon muttered, his distaste obvious. "I still don't know how she survived that fall, or how she got out of Raccoon City. I don't know if she's a government agent or not, and I don't care anymore. I kept trying to escape the program, and she was always there to stop me. To secure my cooperation, she threatened to kill Claire, and to take Sherry somewhere where I'd never be able to find her. I cooperated."

When he didn't respond, Leon pulled out the file Ada had left for him back at the airport. "Read this, and then tell me that you don't believe me."

Chris read the short note, uneasiness filling him at the possessive tone of it, and the author's refusal to take responsibility for what she had done. "Why didn't you come to us?" he asked at length. "S.T.A.R.S. would've protected you, Leon. For Claire's sake, we would have done whatever was necessary to keep you both safe."

"Fear," Leon answered simply. "I tried to track Sherry down six months after I entered the program. Somebody broke into your house afterwards and brought me a souvenir."

Leon reached into his vest and withdrew an old-fashioned diamond ring. "I'm told this was your mother's."

Chris' navy eyes widened as he slowly reached out to take it. "It was," he said, his voice husky with emotion. He stared at it for a long moment before putting it away. "Did you know that someone cut the brakes on Claire's bike about the same time that the ring disappeared? She nearly died, Leon."

"Oh God, I know," Leon whispered hoarsely, shutting his eyes tightly. "That's why I never contacted any of you. I couldn't get to Sherry without hurting any of you, and I didn't dare assume that they wouldn't hurt Sherry if I went to S.T.A.R.S. I let them train me, do whatever they wanted to me, because I couldn't make a choice between my daughter and my. . ."

His voice trailed off as he shuddered and ran his fingers over the Handcannon. "I don't think I'm going to make it out of this one, Chris. If something happens to me, I need you and S.T.A.R.S. to take care of Sherry."

Chris scrubbed his face with his hands. "Of course, we'll take care of her," he said, then paused as Leon's words sank in. "Why do you think you're not going to escape with us?"

Leon hesitated. "Ada is. . .something's wrong with her, Chris. She's made our situation personal, even though it's anything but." He shook his head, his clear blue eyes showing both hatred and bewilderment. "She's obsessed with me, or something. She sees my love for Claire as some kind of betrayal of _her. _She'd like nothing more than for me to give her a reason to kill your sister."

He met the other man's gaze evenly. "I won't give her that reason. I'll force her to kill me before I see Claire harmed."

"Oh, God." Chris' hands fisted at the thought of anyone hurting his baby sister. He drew several deep breaths and forced himself to calm down. "Are you going to tell Claire any of this?"

Leon looked away. "It would only hurt her, Chris."

"Don't you think she deserves to know why she lost you both?" her brother asked, his voice dangerously soft.

"Yes, she does." Leon sighed, his despair a palpable thing. "But do you really think she'd believe me? You didn't, at first."

"Yes, I do," Chris told him, his reluctance obvious. "As much as I hate it, the fact is that sister still loves you. If you're honest with her, she'll believe you, maybe even forgive you."

Leon's head snapped towards him, his eyes wide and very blue. "She still loves me?" he asked an incredulous whisper.

Chris knew in that moment that he had been right. Leon did still love his sister, and it was time that he dealt with the fact. "Yes, Leon, she does."

He watched as the younger man blinked back tears and rose wearily to his feet. "If we get out of this, and you don't come clean, I'll kill you," Chris told him plainly. "But if you're brave enough to deal with what you wrought when you deserted her, and you take responsibility for the pain you've caused her, I'll give her away at your wedding."

"Wedding?" Leon echoed, his voice hoarse. He blinked rapidly, unable to believe that Chris had just given him his blessing.

"Yeah." Chris scowled darkly. "You were planning on marrying her, weren't you?"

Leon wiped his eyes as they leaked despite his best efforts. "I'd give anything to make her my wife."

Chris ignored the emotion choking Leon's voice and nodded. "Good," he said briskly. "Now, let's go clear those rooms."

Leon nodded and used his shirt to wipe his cheeks clean. Chris paused, glancing over his shoulder at the bookcase. "Hold on," he said, approaching it and pushing against it. Leon helped and it slowly slid backwards, revealing a small room with a mesh grate for a floor.

Far below them, a man sat in a chair, a large axe embedded in the wall, holding him in place. His head was bowed, and all you could see was the top of his red head. "Son of a bitch," Chris said in a low voice.

"Do you know who that is?" Leon said, keeping his own voice down.

"Not for sure, but I have a pretty good idea." Chris backed away from sight, going back into the room. "I never saw him, but from Claire's description, I'm willing to bet that that's Steve Burnside."

"They guy that died here?" Leon asked with dread.

"Yeah." Chris shook his head and raised his shotgun. "It's going to take us a while to get to him, and I'd rather not tell Claire until I'm sure."

Leon nodded. "I won't say anything." He hesitated before saying, "If he's not dead, he's probably not human anymore."

"I know," Chris said tiredly. "I'm sure he's not. When we hit the hall, take the first right, and run like hell for the only door you'll see. Be prepared for zombies."

"Got it," Leon said, accepting the change in subject gratefully. "Do you want a stronger weapon? I've got the Striker and the Riot Gun, not to mention the Killer 7."

Chris shook his dark head negatively. "I've been through a lot with this old girl." He patted the old shotgun lovingly. "I'll take my chances with her."

Leon understood. Up until tonight, he'd felt the same way about the Killer 7. "Well, let me know if you need ammo. I've got plenty."

"Thanks." Chris put one hand on the doorknob and turned it. "Just keep running, no matter what you see or hear. Otherwise, you'll never make it."

"I will."

Chris threw the door open and took off at a run. Leon kept to his heels, ignoring the flapping of giant wings. The hallway had been large at one time, but the cocoons hanging from the walls and ceiling took up a lot of space. Leon kept close to Chris as they turned the corner, fighting the urge to look over his shoulder and fire at the multiple presences he sensed at his back. At least, the corpses in the cocoons hadn't suddenly come to life. That probably would have doomed them, and he had no intention of dying in this damn hallway!

He fleetingly noticed the blue herbs to their left, then Chris had the double doors open and they were rushing through it. Leon slammed them shut and turned around. The moans were low and many, and he cursed as he took aim. He took the head of the closest, the Handcannon booming in his hands. It dropped and he turned to his left, helping Chris with the twelve remaining on his side. It didn't take long to deal with them, and Leon was grateful that there didn't seem to be any Crimson Heads among them. Maybe, they'd get lucky this time, in this place.

Then again, maybe not, Leon thought, remembering the man in chair. He also remembered the Tyrant that had attacked him on the plane. If the guy _was_ Steve Burnside, then they were going to have a fight on their hands when they got to him.

They checked the Production room first, finding nothing more than four more zombies. They took the heads of the few who kept them, and searched the room. There were several broken crates at the end of the conveyor belt, none of them holding anything useful. The green lockers directly across from the opened to reveal an Assault Rifle, and Chris groaned as he took it.

"Maybe 'Becca will want this," he muttered as he slung it over his shoulder. "She always seems to end up with the weakest weapons."

"I take it this was here the last time?" Leon asked.

"Yeah. There was a Magnum over there," he gestured towards the broken crates, "but it's not there, now. Things are a little different this time, but still too close for comfort."

Leon nodded his understanding. "Anything else to check in here?"

Chris sighed and led him past a hanging metal crate of missiles and hung a left. There was a metal cabinet both doors hanging askew, blackened from some kind of explosion. The shelves were bare, and Chris just shook his head. "There were some grenade rounds in here, but obviously not this time. I wonder who ended up with them," he added under his breath.

"We go to the machine room next," he said abruptly, turning away. "There were zombies in there too, along with an eight-sided valve handle I needed on the way out."

"The room off the little set of metal stairs?" Leon asked.

"Yeah, that's the one." Chris studied him for a moment. "That's a hell of a memory you got there, Leon."

Leon just sighed. "I've learned to be aware of my surroundings, Chris. It's helped keep me alive over the years."

Chris grunted and led them out of the room. Leon let him take the lead, knowing that while Chris had believed him, it would take time for him to trust again. While Leon no longer took orders from anyone if he could help it, Chris was the captain of Alpha Team. If things had turned out differently, he would have been Leon's commanding officer years ago. He could work with him to save Claire and Sherry's lives.

He also knew the area they were in, which was a plus. Leon hated relying on maps. No matter how well they were made, there was always a room, sometimes even a whole floor, that didn't make it into the plans. Umbrella Inc. at their finest, he thought sourly.

They walked up the metal stairs near the entrance of the main room and went through the single door. The floor was covered in ice, a set of pipes to their right. A small red valve handle was attached to the biggest, and Chris headed towards it. Leon hung back, his eyes moving over the bodies trapped under the ice. He had a bad feeling about this.

Sure enough, Chris had no sooner picked up the valve handle when the zombies began to break through the ice. There were only five of them, but they were uncomfortably close to the other man. Leon took careful aim and began to fire. Chris was shooting them with his enhanced Glock 17, his expression intent.

The last headless body dropped and Chris stomped angrily across the ice. "I almost miss the Hunters," he muttered as they left the room. "At least, they don't try to eat you."

"No," Leon agreed dryly, "they just kill you."

"It'd be a hellava lot quicker than being lunch," Chris shot back.

Leon held his hands up in surrender. "Hey, I'm not disagreeing with you. I'd rather have a quick death, myself."

"Given it a lot of thought, have you?"

"You have no idea." Leon stopped before the room marked, "B.O.W.". "Zombies?"

Chris shook his dark head. "Poison spiders."

Leon rolled his eyes expressively and opened the door. He and Chris rounded the corner and blasted the two large, mutated spiders into quick oblivion. A search of the room yielded nothing, and they hurried back to the Production Room.

"Well, at least we won't have to traverse that damned hallway again after this," Chris said with a small smile. "Claire's not too fond of moths, anymore. She would've stood her ground and shot at them until she ran out of ammo."

"Then, I'm doubly glad that we did this," Leon said, shuddering at the thought of Claire being attacked and possibly dying in this place. "Are we going to hit the workers' quarters?"

"We should," Chris answered as they stopped before the double doors. "Run straight and take a right this time. Get up the stairs as quickly as you can, and we'll be clear."

"Here we go, again," Leon muttered as he opened the door and took off at a dead run. He saw the moths up close this time as they dove at his head. He ducked and took the corner quickly, leaping up the first few steps in his haste. He reached the small landing and kept going, not taking any chances. They flew, after all.

Chris came up after him, his expression showing consternation. "Are you hurt?" he asked briskly.

"No." Leon paused. "They almost looked like butterflies."

Chris heard the wonder in his voice and laughed shortly. "I never thought about it."

"Understandable." Leon flushed and turned towards the tan door on his left. He couldn't help it if he'd found the moths' wings to be beautifully colored. It was amazing what the mind catalogued as one fought to stay alive. "Is this the right place?"

"That's it." Chris watched as he opened the door and kept close to the younger man as they went inside. There were several dead bodies, some on the floor, a couple laying half-off the bunk beds. There was even one slumped in a chair at the table at the far end of the room. There was a bookcase beside him, a locker opposite of them, and a table between them.

Leon spied a durilium case glinting silver under the faint light and went to it. It was locked, but he wasn't too worried about it. He withdrew a slim black case of lock picking tools and went to work. The lock disengaged with a click, and he opened the case.

"Chris!" he called over his shoulder. "Come check this out!"

Chris looked up from the map he had found and came over. He looked into the case, his eyebrows shooting up at its contents. "Just what are we supposed to do with _that_?"

"Hell if I know." Leon lifted the small, solid blue ball carefully. "It feels like glass."

Chris grunted and tapped it with one finger. "Maybe one of the others will have an idea," he said, handing it back. "Anything else back here?"

Leon tucked it in his tactical vest, checking the lockers while Chris went through the piles of books and papers on the shelf. They found nothing more, and they carefully made their way past the pile of bodies. As they left the room, they heard the first moan. They traded a glance and backed away from the closed door, bracing themselves against the railing at their backs.

When several minutes passed in silence, Chris lowered the shotgun and stepped towards the double doors on their left. "Come on," he said. "Let's get this over with and get back to the others."

Leon followed him through the door. He took the map Chris handed to him and looked it over. This was the second floor of the Production Room. There was a door on the left side of the metal balcony, two doors to the right. There was a break in the walkway between them, but not so great that it couldn't be jumped.

"Which door?" Leon asked abruptly.

"That one." Chris pointed to the door just beyond the break. "It leads to a lab that leads to the way out." He frowned suddenly. "I ran into a Hunter in the aquatic tank down there, after I'd emptied it, but that was all."

"Maybe, we should go get the others now," Leon suggested. "They have to be getting worried, by now."

As if on cue, the two-way radio at Chris' hip crackled, and Jill's voice came through. "_Chris? Are you there?"_

He brought it to his lips and spoke into it. "Yeah, we're here, Jill."

_"You're alright, then?"_

"Yeah, babe, we're fine," he assured her. "We've got one more room to check, then we're coming back."

"_I think it would be better if we joined you now,"_ Jill said after a pause.

"What's up?" he asked immediately.

"_Sherry is. . .worried about Leon," _came the unexpected response.

Leon winced at what he was sure was an understatement, and Chris' eyes sharpened at his reaction. "Tell her that he's alright, Jill. We'll be back soon."

Jill sighed, the sound carrying to them. _"She'd like to hear that from him, Chris."_

"Let me talk to her." Leon held his hand out expectantly, and Chris gave him the radio with a scowl. "Sherry?"

_"I'm here, Leon. Are you okay?"_

"I'm fine, honey," he told her in a gentle voice. "We're almost through here. I want you to wait with S.T.A.R.S. until we come back. Okay?"

_"Leon. . ."_ Sherry's voice trailed off. _"Don't take too long, Dad, or I'm coming after you."_

"I won't, kid. Just behave yourself. Got it?"

_"If I have to. Birkin, out."_

Leon frowned at the radio before returning it to Chris, who talked to Jill for a few more moments before signing off. He really didn't care for the militaristic way Sherry had obviously been trained for the last six years. The last thing he'd wanted was for her to end up like any of them!

"What was that all about?" Chris asked, his expression forbidding.

"Sherry doesn't trust anyone," Leon answered with a sigh.

Chris grunted at that. "She seems to trust you just fine."

"Then, I'm the only one." Leon shrugged helplessly. "We exchange three or four letters a year, Chris. I know that she has a lot of anger built up inside her. Part of that's left over from Raccoon City. She's never stopped having the damn nightmares."

"And what's the other part?" Chris asked in a low voice.

"She blames Claire for not coming to rescue her," he answered as honestly as he could. "She doesn't understand why Claire never looked for her."

Chris stiffened. "You think we didn't look for you?" he said, his expression darkening rapidly. "I spent nearly a year helping Claire in her search for the two of you. _You_ were the ones that vanished without a trace."

Leon looked away, his expression distant. "I told Sherry that Claire loved her, that she wouldn't forget her, that she'd come for her if she could. She never quite believed me."

"Why the hell not?" Chris demanded hotly.

"Because she left us behind." Leon met his gaze with hard blue eyes. "Sherry heard me beg Claire to wait, to let me earn enough money to go to France with her. She also heard her tell me that I could join her in Europe, once I'd made enough, but that she couldn't wait. She had to find see you, again. Then, she packed her bags and left. Sherry never saw her again," he finished tonelessly.

Chris bit back angry words and tried for a more civil tone. "I'm her brother, Leon. You should know what family means to Claire."

"I do," Leon said simply. "Claire told me about how you took care of her after your parents died, everything you sacrificed to keep her. She said you were the most important thing in her life, and that she had to find you. I understood."

"Then, why doesn't Sherry?" he asked with exasperation.

Leon shook his head at the other man's obtuseness. "She was twelve, Chris. How do you explain to a child that she takes second place in her mother's life to an uncle she's never even met?"

Chris swore and looked away. "Damn it, you three were only together for a few months before Rockfort Island. How the hell did she get so attached to Claire in such a short time?"

"It wasn't hard," he murmured, smiling at the memories. The smile died as he remembered how it ended. "She's going to resent you, and the other members of S.T.A.R.S., for being so important to Claire. I'm going to work on changing that, but you have to be patient, Chris. It's not going to happen overnight."

"Shit." Chris reloaded his shotgun, just for something to do. "What about you, Leon? Do you resent me for being so important to Claire?"

"Not often," Leon said uncomfortably. "I wish to hell that Claire had waited until we could go with her, but I understood. It hurt when she left, but nothing short of death would have kept her with us. It took me a while to accept that, but eventually I did."

Chris took a mental step back and studied Leon closely. The younger man wasn't lying, but he was holding something back. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked finally.

Leon took a few restless steps away from him, hating that he was so easy to read. "Even if Claire had stayed, the government would have come for us. We couldn't have stayed together, anyway."

He recognized the verbal evasion for what it was. "Leon--"

"I hate that she left us so easily," Leon confessed in an emotion-laden voice. "I hate that Sherry and I, that the family we'd made together, wasn't enough for her. I hate that she left us behind and endangered her life by throwing herself back into the nightmare that nearly killed us. And I hate myself for feeling that way."

Chris watched him walk away with a silent oath as he realized that Sherry Birkin wasn't the only one who'd spent eight years waiting for Claire to rescue her.

* * *

Claire leaned against the wall outside of the wrecked plane, waiting impatiently for her brother and her former lover to return. Sherry wasn't the only one who was worried about them being alone together. Chris had a temper on him, and he'd been wanting a piece of Leon for years. He'd promised to control himself before they'd left, but she had her doubts.

And Sherry. Claire shook her head, still hurt by the distrust the young woman didn't bother to hide. She'd made her feelings painfully clear during her 'father's' absence. She didn't know any of them, she didn't want to know any of them. She blamed Claire--and the rest of S.T.A.R.S.--for whatever she and Leon had gone through the last eight years. She was a very angry young woman, and only Leon had kept her from leaving them and tackling this situation on her own.

Claire shivered and rubbed her arms. She'd forgotten how damned cold the Antarctic was. She wished she'd thought to grab her thermals, but there wasn't room in her pack for them, and they were uncomfortable as hell. She thought of the thick, sheepskin leather that Leon was wearing with longing. _He_ probably wasn't cold.

Fuck! she thought, kicking the wall ineffectually. What the hell was he doing here, anyway? He'd stayed away for eight damn years. Why had he shown up, now? And why here? He hadn't been a part of this madness before. Who--or what--had drugged Leon and dropped him into the middle of _her_ nightmare?

She knew that Chris didn't trust him. It didn't matter how much Intel he had fed them over the years. Chris believed that he had turned his back on S.T.A.R.S. and their anti-Umbrella movement for petty, personal reasons. Claire had always defended him, sure that the huge pharmaceutical corporation had had something to do with Leon's disappearance.

Now, she wasn't so sure. Sure, they'd argued over her decision to drop everything and rush to France, but Leon had known how important finding Chris was to her. He'd been pissed at being left behind, but he wasn't the kind of person to run when things got a little rough. That's why his disappearance had haunted her for so long. It hadn't made any sense to her. It still didn't.

As for Umbrella, if Leon had been their prisoner, he would have been able to escape. When their stock had plummeted two years ago, Umbrella had lost their public credibility, and all of their power. They wouldn't have had the resources to come up with something like this, let alone keep one man and a young girl prisoner.

Of course, the Intel Leon had sent them hinted otherwise. Key members of Umbrella's board of directors were rumored to have gone to work for a new corporation, one intent on continuing Umbrella's bioweapons research. They were unsubstantiated rumors, but the situation they were in now kind of gave the theory a little credence.

And if Umbrella hadn't gone away, and merely took their research underground, then they were all in serious trouble. Claire just didn't know, and she hated the uncertainty. She worked a dangerous job, but this went way beyond the regular search-and-rescue missions S.T.A.R.S. specialized in. If they hadn't been through an Umbrella outbreak before, they'd probably be dead already.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Chris' head appeared at the top of the ladder. She met him at the top, throwing her arms around him, grateful that he wasn't hurt. Leon came up behind him, his cherubic features drawn. He flashed her a small, empty smile and kept going. To Sherry, no doubt.

She pulled away from her brother to stare after him. His shoulders were slumped, his head bowed. Yet, his posture straightened as soon as he neared the plane. She saw why as Sherry flew out of the opening and into his arms. He was putting on a good face for her, but he was upset about something. Claire thought that she might know what it was.

She turned to her brother with narrowed blue eyes. "What did you do to him, Chris?"

"Nothing." At her disbelieving look, Chris smiled grimly. "We talked, Claire. That's all."

"Then, why did he look like you'd just killed his dog?" Claire snapped caustically.

Chris sighed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I think that's for Leon to tell you," he said quietly.

She scowled. "Dammitt, Chris--"

He cut her off. "No, Claire. I can't run interference for you on this. If you want answers, you'll have to get them from him."

"Fine, then I will."

Chris watched her stomp back to the plane with a heavy sigh. Claire could be pig-headed and stubborn, but now wasn't the time for a heart-to-heart with Leon Kennedy. He followed her quickly and was surprised to see her standing quietly, the crystal ball they'd found in her cradled in her hands.

"Do you know what that is?" he asked as he stepped into the plane.

She nodded, her red-brown bangs falling into her eyes. "There's a key-card in here," she answered, her voice flat.

Chris cursed soundly. "The one that unlocked all of the doors and started the self-destruct countdown?"

"Yeah, that's it." Claire gave the ball back to Leon, avoiding his searching look. She wasn't ready to talk about Steve with _him_. "We'll have to open it in the penitentiary. I want to check the cell we-I was trapped in before we leave."

He nodded curtly and kept his mouth shut. He wasn't mentioning his suspicions about the man he'd seen in the office until he had solid proof that it was Steve Burnside. He wasn't going to raise his sister's hopes without proof, or make this any harder on her than it already was.

His dark blue eyes landed on Sherry. "You've obviously had combat training, but S.T.A.R.S. is a team. You need to learn how to take orders."

Her chin went up defiantly. "I know how to take orders, Redfield."

"From Leon, yes. But you have to accustom yourself to taking orders from Jill and I, too."

Sherry crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know you, Redfield, and I don't trust you."

Chris smiled faintly. "I realize that. But you obviously trust Leon, and he knows us."

"He's also biased," Sherry muttered under her breath.

Leon slid her a sidelong look. "You can trust them, Sherry."

She met his look with suspiciously eyes. "You made me a promise," she reminded him pointedly.

"And I have every intention of keeping it," he assured her calmly. "But if something goes wrong, you'll need S.T.A.R.S. to keep you safe."

She grunted and looked at the floor. "You're not going to do anything stupid, like try to play hero, are you?"

"No, I'm no hero." Anger filled him as he realized that Ada _had_ noticed his depression, and shared the knowledge with his daughter. "I'm getting us both out of this, but I can't do it alone. Neither can you," he added, his voice rough despite his best efforts.

"Fine." Sherry met his gaze evenly. "I'll be a good little girl, but you owe me for this."

Relief filled him at her acquiescence, reluctant though it was. "I'll pay you back when we get out of this." He smiled slowly. "You still like ice cream, right?"

She laughed despite herself. "Yeah, that'll work," she drawled facetiously.

Leon merely shook his head and looked to Chris. "You've got our cooperation. The rest is up to you."

Chris read the unspoken message in his eyes, and knew that Sherry Birkin was now his responsibility. "Then, let's head for the lab. I want out of this damned place."

* * *

Claire glanced around the small lab nervously. She'd never been in this part of the facility. When she and Steve had been escaped, Alexia Ashford had sent a tentacle to overturn their vehicle. She hadn't awakened until Chris had released her from the cocoon she'd been trapped in. She hated being in unfamiliar surroundings, even though Chris seemed to know his way around.

They'd searched both levels of the lab, including the empty aquatic tank. He'd made jokes about the Hunter bursting through the glass and scaring

ten years off his life. Jill wasn't amused. She'd smacked him on the back of the head and told him shut up, that it wasn't funny. They were going to make a great married couple, Claire thought with a grin.

"What's the smile for?" Leon asked in a whisper.

Claire reached up and touched her palm to the back of his head, imitating Jill. He took her hand in his, returning her smile briefly, before releasing her. Chris had warned them of the small, robotic spy cameras that Wesker had installed in the hall last time. They were getting ready to leave the room, and everyone was a little nervous.

They left the room in twos, Chris and Billy going first. She and Leon were guarding the rear, keeping Sherry safely in the middle. Leon heard a whirring noise behind them and whirled around. One of the small cameras was had just scanned them. He traded a glance with Claire, and they raised their guns and blasted it to oblivion.

They turned back to others to see them all blasting at another Hunter. It dropped to its back and died with a squeal. Chris looked worried as he reloaded the shotgun. "Wesker's probably here somewhere," he announced grimly. "Keep your strongest, fastest weapons handy."

Rebecca put the enhanced Beretta away and pulled the Assault Rifle off her back. "Done," she said succinctly.

Billy laughed, his usually austere expression softening. "That's my girl."

Jill was reloading her grenade launcher, this time with flame rounds. She knew from what Chris had told her that their former commander was susceptible to fire. "Carlos?" she questioned.

Carlos, stubborn to the end, merely reloaded his M-16. He rarely used anything else. "She brings me luck," he said, patting the machine gun with a smile.

"Of course, she does," Claire inserted, rolling her eyes as she checked the Magnum.

Sherry silently reloaded her Broken Butterfly, while Leon pulled the TMP around to rest on his chest. It had a special stock to keep it steady, but it could go through two-hundred-and-fifty rounds in less than five minutes. He'd stick to the Handcannon until he really needed the machine gun.

"We hit the auxiliary power room next," Chris said. "I want to make sure the power's on this time, so we don't have to backtrack. We'll take the elevator downstairs. When it opens, head for the door right across from you. There'll be a Sweeper or two waiting the false courtyard, and we'll save them for the return trip."

They went to the end of the hall, where an elevator took them down to the next level. Leon and Claire traded a glance and a smile, easily reading the other's intentions. While the others went through the door, they waited for the Sweepers. Only one came running at them, and they quickly shot it to death.

Chris was scowling at them as they came through the door. "Don't ever take off like that, again!" he snapped angrily. He watched them trade guilty looks and sighed. God, Leon was just as bad as Claire. He'd expected better from a highly trained government agent. And though he hated to admit, Claire wasn't the best influence in the world.

They gave him meek apologies, and he just glared at them. He led them into the auxiliary power room and used the valve handle on the power supply and it slowly connected. Then, he went to the control panel and turned the red switch all the way to the left. The main lights came, and they breathed a collective sigh of relief.

He spied the brown trunk in the far corner and just shook his head. "Carlos, check this one, too."

Carlos opened the trunk and started laughing. "A dragonfly, _El Capitan, _and a linear launcher. You want them?"

Chris remembered the dragonfly-shaped key that had led to the way out with a sigh. "Does the bug have four wings?"

"You're good at this, _amigo_." Carlos handed them over, grateful to be rid of the damn things. Launchers were too big to carry comfortably, and weirdly shaped keys equaled trouble in the Umbrella world. "Are we going to open a secret door, now?"

"What else?" Chris asked rhetorically, glaring at the dragonfly key before putting it all away. "Come on, guys."

They all followed him out of the hallway and into the false courtyard. A fountain gurgled in the silence, big double doors waited to their right. They went through them, and a stunned silence followed.

Jill was the first to recover. "Chris. . ."

"I know. The Spencer mansion." His midnight eyes took in their opulent surroundings with a sense of dread. "They're not sticking to the script anymore."

Rebecca swallowed hard and moved closer to Billy. "I never thought I'd see this place again," she said in a horrified whisper.

Billy put his free arm around her and pulled her close. "Just remember that it's not real, doll face." She shot him a dirty look, and he sent her an unrepentant wink. "Feeling a little better now, hmm?"

"Jerk." She smiled to take the sting out of it. The smile died as she looked at Chris and Jill. "Now what?"

"Now, we see just how authentic they made this part of the game," he answered grimly.

"But what about--" Claire broke off, biting her lip to keep from saying Steve's name. "We haven't checked the cell block, yet," she continued in a more subdued tone. Her eyes went to the second door at the top of the stairs, the one on the right, that one that had led her to Steve. She took a step forward without realizing it. "We have to look, Chris. I can't leave until we do."

He restrained her with a hand on his shoulder. "We will, Claire."

Jill nodded her encouragement. "Why don't we split up?" she suggested, holding a hand up to still their protests. "You and Claire can take Leon and Billy with you to search the penitentiary. Carlos and I will secure the dining room, and Sherry and Rebecca can do a thorough sweep of this hall. Is that acceptable?"

Billy looked as though he wanted to protest the arrangement, but in the end he merely gave a curt nod and hugged Rebecca close. "We'll be right back, babe. Be careful."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and stepped back. "You too, Billy."

Leon watched Claire closely, wondering what was so damned important about the penitentiary. His mind flashed on the red-haired man he and Chris had seen and he knew. She fully expected to find Steve Burnside in one of the prison cells. Dead or alive, he didn't know. Leon had no idea how the man had died, or when. Until tonight, he hadn't even known that the man existed. Now, he had to wonder just how important he had been to Claire. Was Steve Burnside the reason she had stopped looking for them?

Leon followed he and Chris up the center of the grand staircase, taking a right where it branched off in both directions. Another small set of stairs took them to the second floor, where Claire ran past her brother, waiting with one hand on the doorknob. She was almost dancing with impatience, and Leon approached the door with deepening dread.

They went through and found a small lounge. Claire pushed the heavy bookcase to one side, and revealed a mount on the wall. Chris looked at it and sighed heavily. "Does anybody have a shotgun but me?" he asked hopefully.

Billy and Claire shook their heads negatively, and Leon stepped forward. "I do," he responded, opening the attaché case and removing the Riot Gun. He didn't bother mentioning the master key. It wouldn't work on a door lacking a keyhole. "Here, try this."

Chris took it and walked over the mount. Instead of the Riot Gun, he used his beloved shotgun to trigger whatever puzzle it was connected to. "The door we need is now unlocked."

Leon watched him look the new weapon over with sympathy. It was hard to part with a weapon that had saved your life on numerous occasions. "You could have used mine for the lock," he said quietly.

"No, this one's more powerful." Chris shrugged and smiled crookedly. "But I understand how Carlos feels about his M-16, now."

Billy just laughed and raised the Matilda. "Whichever gun keeps me alive is my favorite."

Claire was standing impatiently at the entrance to the hall. "Come on, Chris!"

"We're coming." Chris traded a meaningful look with Leon, trying to warn him. When the blond man only nodded in response, he knew that he'd figured it out for himself. "Let's get this over with," he muttered as he turned away.

Leon hurried after them, wanting to see the guy that had become so important to the woman who'd sworn that she loved_ him_. A thick green tentacle came out of the wall, just barely missing Claire as she jumped back. He raised the Handcannon and blasted it once. Chris pumped the Riot Gun and shot it, and it quickly retracted into the wall. The hallway turned to the right, and another tentacle was blasted into retreat.

The door at the end of the hallway led to an old-fashioned penitentiary. The walls were made of stone, but the bars were definitely steel. Dead bodies lay on the floors and on the bunks, and the stench of decay was heavy in the air. Leon watched the bodies warily, just waiting for one to stir, and moan in that truly terrifying way.

All was silent as Claire came to a stop before a plain steel door. She put her hand on the long handle, drew a deep breath, and pushed it open. A narrow room stretched out before them, knights in armor flanking the steel-gray walkway. At the end sat the figure Leon had seen before, an overlarge, double-bladed ax embedded in the wall beside his head. The long wooden handle extended diagonally, keeping the man pinned in place.

Claire shouted, "Steve!" and ran towards him. She tugged frantically on the ax handle, not strong enough to pull it out of the steel wall. She looked over her shoulder and yelled, "Help me!"

Leon ran to her, Chris at his side. They both took hold of the wooden handle and pulled with all of their strength. Chris planted one booted foot against the wall for leverage, and Leon concentrated on keeping the blade away from the unconscious man's face. It loosened with a horrible creaking sound, but refused to be dislodged.

"Slide him out," Chris said abruptly. "I'll hold it as long as I can."

"Got it." Billy grasped the man's legs while Leon kept his head away from the dangerously sharp blade. They finally managed to slide him out, and laid him down on the floor. "We got him."

Chris released the handle and jumped back as it wobbled unstably. "How is he?" he asked as he turned around.

"I don't know," Claire snapped as she took Steve's face in her hands, slapping his cheek lightly. "Steve? Wake up, Steve. It's Claire."

He groaned and slowly opened his eyes. Surprisingly green, they locked onto Claire and widened dramatically "Claire?" he questioned incredulously.

"Yeah, it's me." Claire smiled mistily and helped him sit up. "How do you feel?"

Steve Burnside blinked and continued to stare at her. "Is it really you?" he asked in a hoarse voice. She nodded, and he threw his arms around her. "How did you get away, Claire? I thought that Alexia would get you for sure."

"Oh, Steve." Claire held onto him, her tears brimming over. How did she tell him that eight years had passed since they'd tried to escape Rockfort Island?! "Steve, I. . ."

"We need to get out of here," Chris announced, laying a hand on her shoulder. "We'll have Rebecca examine him once we're back in the main hall."

"Yeah," Claire said huskily as she drew back. Her brother wasn't the only one who was wondering if Steve was going to transform into a Tyrant, again. "Steve, meet Chris."

Steve glared at the guy touching Claire before remembering the profile he's seen on the base's computer. "You're the sibling?" he asked with astonishment.

"Yeah," Chris said, obviously uncomfortable.

Steve looked back at Claire and smiled. "Hey, I guess you proved me wrong. Your brother really did come for you."

Claire returned that smile brilliantly. "I told you so."

Leon looked down at the man--the _boy_--that was holding Claire so possessively and had to get out of there. He couldn't stand there and watch the woman he loved with another man. He didn't care how innocent it might seem, because there was nothing innocent about the way that Steve Burnside was looking at Claire.

He withdrew and walked away as quietly as he could. He took a seat on the little set of stone steps that led to the last of the cells. He breathed deeply, waiting for the pain in his heart to subside. Logically, he knew that Claire was a beautiful, vibrant woman. Of course, she wouldn't have remained alone for the last eight years. But emotionally, he was devastated to know that, not only had she replaced him in her heart, but that she done so within a week of their breakup.

He had always wondered how much of Claire's feelings for him had come from their shared nightmare in Raccoon City. He'd hoped that her love for him was real, but he'd known that he wasn't the type of guy she usually dated. He was too blond, too nice, and he didn't ride a motorcycle. They'd joked about it, then. Now, it didn't seem quite so funny.

"Fuck," he whispered, bowing his head as desolation swept through him. He ran his fingers over the Handcannon in a habitual gesture, his mind on the mess he found himself in. Even if he got himself out this alive, and Ada _didn't_ go back on her word, there was no place for him in Claire Redfield's life. It was something he'd tried not think about the last eight years, but something he had feared. He thought back to Ada's note and realized what she'd meant. The freedom he had always craved wasn't very important, now.

Billy leaned against the wall, watching as he played with his gun. "How long?" he asked quietly.

Leon's head came in surprise. "How long what?" he asked, perplexed.

Billy nodded towards the Handcannon. "How long have you been thinking about using it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Leon said quickly, holstering the gun.

"Bullshit," Billy said bluntly. "After Africa, my PTSD was so bad that the Marines institutionalized me. I recognize the signs."

Leon looked away. First Ada, now Coen. "How obvious is it?" he asked finally.

"Obvious enough, to anyone who's ever considered it." Billy crouched next to him, his cobalt eyes nearly black. "I don't think S.T.A.R.S. is going to see it, though. I don't think any of them has ever found themselves that low."

Leon's laugh was short and bitter. "No, I'm sure they haven't."

"Have you considered getting help?" Billy asked quietly.

"Yeah, I've thought about it." Leon rested his head against the railing, thinking about everything that he couldn't explain. "I just don't know that it would really help."

Billy shrugged, drawing attention to the tribal tattoo snaking down his right arm. "It helped me."

Leon acknowledged his words with a barely perceptible nod. "Just don't say anything to the others," he entreated in a low voice. "I couldn't handle them knowing."

"I won't," Billy assured him, adding, "but I don't keep any secrets from Rebecca. Eventually, I'll tell her."

Leon cringed inwardly at the thought of sweet, gentle Rebecca knowing how bad his mental state was. At least, she knew how to keep a secret. Billy's new life showed that. "Ask her not to say anything, then," he told the other man. "I don't want. . .anyone's pity."

Billy smiled crookedly, knowing that _anyone_ meant Claire Redfield. "The kid's looking steady enough to walk. I think we're going to be leaving soon."

Leon accepted the change in subject gratefully. "Good," he said with real relief. "I just want to get the hell out of here."

"Yeah, I'm not real crazy about zombies, either," Billy said with a quick glance over his shoulder. "I'm just glad that asshole Wesker hasn't popped up, yet. From what Chris says, he's damn near unstoppable."

"That's what I hear, too." Leon stood and stretched his legs. "But after you've taken out enough monsters, the human ones don't seem so scary anymore."

Billy snorted. "Sometimes, they're the worst."

They heard voices behind them, and he watched Leon's expression close down with a shake of his head. Hell, if his girl had replaced him a week after they'd separated, he'd have killed the son of a bitch who'd supplanted him. He didn't know where the younger man was getting his restraint from, but he was impressed by it.

As it was, he didn't trust the newest addition to their little party. Birkin might be an angry little girl, but at least she was honest about it. This Burnside was different. Billy felt for him and what he'd been through, but something about him just didn't ring true. For someone who'd died the same day that they met, he was already acting way too possessive of Claire.

He turned to Chris. "Are we leaving now?"

The S.T.A.R.S. leader nodded, his expression drawn with worry. "I want to get back to the others and hear their reports."

"Yes, sir." Billy snapped a proper salute, and the other man smiled briefly.

"Stow it, Coen." Chris' smile died as his midnight gaze turned to Leon. The younger man had shut himself off again, and this time Chris couldn't blame him. "If any part of the Spencer mansion is built into this place, there will be a lot of Crimson Heads. If you can spare them, I'd like you to give Carlos and Rebecca stronger weapons."

Leon nodded immediately. "I can spare them," he said simply.

"What about me?" A slightly nasal, though thoroughly masculine voice asked.

Chris hesitated, glancing at Claire's miraculously resurrected friend. "Leon Kennedy, Billy Coen, this is Steve Burnside."

The young redheaded man eyed them suspiciously as he moved closer to Claire. "Hi," he said grudgingly.

Billy narrowed his eyes in an intimidating manner, while Leon merely inclined his head. Neither bothered to speak. Chris cleared his throat and said, "Fall in, people."

"Wait." Claire approached Leon with a smile. "Can I have that crystal ball?"

Leon fished it out of his vest and handed it to her, taking care not to let their fingers touch. "How are you going to open it?" he asked, striving for a normal tone.

He knew he had failed when she glanced at him with a puzzled expression. He kept his own features impassive, forcing his expression to mirror hers. "What?"

"Nothing," Claire muttered, disturbed by lack of animation on his angelic features. She stomped away, suddenly angry, up the steps and to the cannon. "Don't freak out, Chris. This is how I have to trigger the damn thing."

She stepped into the darkened square of stone and quickly stepped back. A stone block suspended from a chain came crashing down, then was slowly raised. She went to place the ball under it when Leon's shout stopped her.

"Wait!" Leon's heart jumped into his throat as she leapt back, and barely missed being flattened beneath it. "Dammitt, that's not necessary!"

Claire put her hands on her hips. "It's the only way to open it," she argued hotly.

"Give it to me and I'll do it." He held out his hand imperiously, his clear blue eyes narrowing in response to her glare. "Give me the fucking ball, Claire. I. Will. Open. It."

"Oh, really?" She tossed it to him, crossing her arms over chest. "This I've got to see."

Leon set it on the ground and looked up. "Can I borrow the Riot Gun?"

"Sure." Chris gave it to him and stepped back to watch the show. He sure as hell wasn't getting in the middle of this one!

Leon placed the blue ball between his feet and brought the Riot Gun's metal stock down on it hard. The glass shattered around his feet, revealing a blue-and-white Umbrella security card. He picked it up carefully and held it between two fingers. "You were saying?" he said, smirking.

Claire came down the steps and snatched out of his hand. "Fuck you, Leon."

Leon watched her walk away with bleak blue eyes. "You too, Claire," he whispered inaudibly.

* * *

Jill looked up as Chris and the others returned. A young, red-haired man she didn't recognize was with them, his hand clasping Claire's. She rose from her perch on the main staircase, her gray-blue gaze going to Leon. His youthful features were harder than she'd ever seen, but his too-blue eyes were alive with pain. Poor Leon, she thought, embracing Chris as he reached her.

Chris closed his eyes briefly before pulling himself away. "What did you find?" he asked, his voice strained with worry.

"Nothing," she told him with a genuine smile. "The rest of the doors are locked tight, probably for show."

"Thank God." Chris returned her smile. "Rebecca, Carlos?"

Carlos stepped forward immediately, while Rebecca had to wiggle her way out of Billy's arms. Chris waved Leon forward, who set the attaché case on the floor and opened it. "Even though this isn't the Spencer Mansion, I want you to take a more powerful weapon."

Leon held the Striker up. "The Striker holds one hundred rounds, regular shotgun shells. Close-range power is 12.0, but long range is only 4.0." He set it on the ground and laid the Blackmail beside it. "The Blackmail is a .9 millimeter. It holds 35 bullets, and its firing power is 3.4 period."

Then, he pulled out his beloved Killer 7 and laid it next to them. "The Killer 7 hasn't been upgraded, yet. It holds seven rounds, and fires at a range of 25. This," he held up a gun similar to Sherry's, "is a Broken Butterfly. It's also a .45 caliber. It kicks like a mule, but it holds twelve bullets, and its firing power is 50.0. Now, who wants what?"

Carlos raised an black eyebrow. "I don't think so, _amigo._ None of them fire fast enough for me."

"Hold on." Leon took a World War II era machine gun and grinned. "_This_ is the Chicago Typewriter. It holds as much .45 caliber ammo as you can cram into it, and it's fully automatic. Short-range, long-range, it doesn't matter. Just point and shoot, and something ends up really dead, really quick."

Carlos' black eyes lit up. "And you're not using it? _Why_?"

Leon patted the TMP strapped to his chest. "This one's my baby."

"I'll take her." Carlos grabbed the new machine and began looking it over. "Does she have a name?"

He blinked. "Uh, no. I don't name my weapons."

"I'll come up with something," the Latino man promised before wandering away to play with his new toy.

Rebecca smiled sweetly as crouched beside Leon. "What do you recommend for me, Special Agent Kennedy?"

He flashed her a genuine smile and handed her the Blacktail. "It doesn't kick quite as hard as the others, 'Becca. Give it a try. And take these," he added, handing her four boxes of bullets.

"Thank you, Leon." She took it back to Billy, who nodded to him in thanks. He held up the Killer 7, and Billy shook his head negatively. Leon grinned but didn't take offense.

Steve came over and squatted next to him. "I know I'm new here, but I was hoping you had something for me?"

Leon considered giving him the survival knife, but thought that might be a bit obvious, not to mention petty. "Take the Broken Butterfly. It holds more ammo," he said shortly.

The young man looked at the revolver with disappointment. "You don't have anything else that's fully automatic in there, do you?" he asked hopefully.

"Sorry, but no." Leon handed him two boxes of .45 caliber bullets. He was saving the last two boxes for himself. He put the Killer 7 away with a sense of relief. Even if it _had_ been upgraded, he wouldn't have given his favorite gun to the guy who'd stolen his girlfriend. "The B.B.'s a good gun. It'll keep your ass alive. You don't need any more than that."

"True." Steve stood in a sudden movement and pointed the gun over Leon's head. "Thanks, man."

"Yeah, sure." Leon knew he was being a dick, but he simply couldn't help it. It was all he could do not to tear the kid a new one. Jealousy was an ugly emotion, and he couldn't afford to release eight years of rage on the poor schmuck. He'd probably kill him if he did.

He closed the attaché case and rose to his feet. He looked around the group with veiled eyes. "Anything else, Chris?"

Chris shook his head. "No, that's more than enough, Leon. Thank you."

Sherry had been leaning silently against one of the ornate marble pillars that supported the upper walkway. She straightened and approached Leon slowly, wishing that Burnside would move away. While S.T.A.R.S. might be wary of the newcomer in their midst, Sherry _knew_ that he couldn't be trusted.

Steve saw her coming and casually backed away, going back to where Claire stood silently on the stairs. Sherry glanced at the recently reunited couple and had to stifle an urge to scream with fury. Damn them, Leon did _not_ deserve this.

"Hey," she greeted softly, summoning a smile for the man with the bleak eyes. "Are you all right?"

Leon nodded, his blond hair falling into his face. "I'm okay, honey. You?"

Her slender shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "I'm fine so long as I don't talk to _her_," she said with rueful honesty.

"I understand," he said on a sigh. "They're good people, Sherry. Please, give them a chance."

"I'm doing my best." She echoed his sigh, looking for all the world like the twelve-year-old he remembered so well. "It's not the same now, Leon. She moved on without us, like we never even existed."

"Sherry. . ." Leon put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "That's what happens in the real world, honey. You lose someone, and you have to move past it, so that it doesn't destroy you."

"We didn't," she said almost inaudibly.

_And we're paying for it now, _he thought bitterly. Aloud, he only said, "Memories were all we had to keep ourselves going. Claire had her brother, and the rest of S.T.A.R.S. to help her. But she never forgot us, Sherry."

"Yeah, well she sure as hell stopped loving us!" Sherry hissed to low to be heard.

Leon didn't have an answer for that one. Despite Chris' assertion that Claire still loved him, he knew better. Her reaction to Steve Burnside showed him where her heart lay, and it wasn't with him.

"I doubt she ever stopped loving you, honey. She's probably still ticked at me. She thinks I took you away from her," he reminded her gently.

Sherry laid her head on his shoulder. "Are you ever going to tell her the truth?"

Leon looked at Claire, who was beaming at Steve while they argued over something silly. "I don't know," he said finally, grateful that she couldn't see his face as he uttered the lie. He'd leave it to Chris to tell her truth, once they survived this test and returned to the real world. He didn't think he'd be in it all that long, if he even made it that far.

Jill watched Leon interact with Sherry, and the pair's obvious hopelessness tugged at her heart. "I'm worried about Leon," she said in a quiet voice.

"I am too." Chris put a hand on her shoulder, his lips next to her ear. "I've got a lot to tell you, Jill. But not in front of the others."

She looked up at him with serious blue eyes. "How bad is it, Chris?"

"Leon doesn't think that he's going to make it out of this alive," he murmured. "He asked S.T.A.R.S. to take care of Sherry."

Jill's eyes widened at that. "Why?"

Chris hesitated before taking her hand. "Walk with me," he said in an intimate, but clearly audible voice.

Jill blushed despite herself and let him lead her down the stairs. She ignored the ribbing from the rest of Alpha Team, and they went to an isolated corner of the room. "Talk to me, Chris."

"The government used Sherry to force him into working for them. He's been a virtual prisoner for the last eight years, and Sherry along with him," Chris told her with obvious frustration. "Sherry was held somewhere else. He doesn't know where, because when he tried to find her, they cut the brakes on Claire's bike as a warning."

Jill gasped. "I knew that it wasn't just a coincidence," she stated. "The break-in and the wreck happening in the same week. I knew they had to be connected."

"You were right." Chris pulled her into his arms, resting his cheek on the crown of her head. "Do you remember Claire telling us about Ada Wong?"

"The spy that saved Leon's life in Raccoon City, right?" He nodded, and Jill exhaled harshly. "I take it that she isn't dead, after all."

"Leon says that she's his jailer, and that she's obsessed with him."

"Mmmmm." Jill lifted her head, a thoughtful expression on her classic features. "That would certainly explain why Leon left so abruptly, and never tried to contact Claire. After all, he was so in love with her that even _Carlos_ commented on it."

Chris felt a flash of residual jealousy, which quickly faded. Although, Carlos had declared himself in love with Jill at one time, it hadn't lasted. They treated one another like brother and sister now, except for the sexual innuendos Carlos made to all women. Make that step-brother and sister, Chris thought with faint smile.

"I wish I'd been there to see how close they were for myself," he said with regret. "I should have waited for you before I left for Europe. Then, Claire might never have been captured while looking for me, and she wouldn't have met Steve Burnside."

"You don't like him," Jill stated, tilting her head back to look at him. "Why not? Is it because of Leon?"

Chris just sighed. "Even without Leon, I don't think I'd like him, Jill. He died eight years ago, but he claims that he doesn't remember anything. Something about just him just screams, 'bullshit". He's also much too possessive of Claire for my liking."

Jill nodded soberly. "I noticed that, too."

He flicked a glance towards the stairs. "I'm going to form two groups, just in case we get separated. I want Leon and Claire on different teams."

"Are you sure that's wise?" she asked with a frown. "Leon doesn't seem to want to be separated from her."

"If I don't, he's going to end up killing Burnside," Chris told her bluntly.

Jill looked surprised at that. "Leon's not like that, Chris. He wouldn't hurt anyone."

"He's changed, Jill." Chris rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Sherry's not the only one who's angry with Claire for not finding them."

"And she met Steve right after leaving them," Jill said with sudden insight. "God, no wonder he's angry! He probably blames Steve for everything."

"Maybe, he's right to," Chris muttered, hating that he was even thinking it. "I don't know anymore. If it had been me, Claire never would've stopped looking. Yet, she gave up before she'd been looking for Leon a year. I always wondered why, when we never stopped searching for any clue as to Burnside's whereabouts."

Jill mumbled a very unladylike word, causing her lover to chuckle, despite the grim circumstances. "Then, let's decide who's going with whom, so we can get out of here," she said decisively.

Chris smiled at that and brought her hand to his lips. "That's my girl," he murmured, grunting as she punched him lightly in the stomach. "Too chauvinistic?"

"How'd you guess?" Jill asked in a drawl as they left the corner and approached the others. He just rubbed his stomach, and she laughed.

Carlos looked up as they approached, grinning as he caressed his new weapon. "Boy, that was quick," he joked, ducking as Jill's hand came at his head.

She scowled when she missed. "Shut up, Olivera."

Chris just shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "We're going to form two groups," he announced, the smile dying. "I want to be prepared, in case we get separated, or have to split up."

"Rebecca, you and Billy will be with Jill," he informed them. At their nods, he turned to Leon. "I want you and Sherry on their team, as well. Can you take orders from Jill?"

Leon stiffened, trading a glance with Sherry, who looked relieved. It was that expression that persuaded him to agree. "I have no problem with that," he said, even as he hated the thought of being separated from Claire. But it was probably for the best, as Burnside's behavior towards Claire was decidedly intimate, and pushing all of Leon's buttons at once.

Sherry nodded, her long blond hair sliding over her shoulders. "If that's what Leon wants," she said softly, hiding a smile as Steve's eyes narrowed on her almost imperceptibly. Revenge was as sweet as it was prompt, she thought with satisfaction.

"Good." Chris turned to his sister with dark eyes. "You and Steve are with me. Carlos, get off your ass and get over here."

Carlos rolled his eyes and got to his feet with slow, exaggerated movements. "_Si, Capitan._ Anything else this humble grunt can do for you?"

Chris looked at him with exasperation. "You can take Jill's suggestion and shut up."

"Where's the fun in that, _amigo_?"

With a big, dramatic sigh, he just started up the stairs. "God, it's like having a kid," he mumbled under his breath. He ignored the other man's laugh and led them back to the second floor lounge.

The secret hallway was blessedly free of tentacles, and they entered the penitentiary quickly. The moans echoing off the stone walls told Leon that the bodies had reanimated. He couldn't see much from his place at the rear, but the sound of gunfire ahead, as well as the thump of dropping bodies, suggested they weren't going to be a problem.

Chris led them to a small set of stairs at the end of the hallway, opposite of the stone block that had so nearly crushed Claire. He used the Umbrella security card on the card reader and the door lock disengaged with the loud beep, the red light turning green on the scanner. Chris opened the door, and they all piled into the next room.

At the top of the stairs, Chris halted the group. The copper mesh floor showed nothing but a long, dark drop below. Chris took out the linear launcher and handed it to Jill. She took it without comment, walking over to the panel he pointed out. In the middle of two square handles was an open compartment, where he said that he and Claire had originally found the launcher.

"I have to go in there," he said, pointing to the door with the dragonfly-shaped recess next to it. "Once I do, it'll unlock the facility's self-destruct mechanism, and the door to another airplane hangar. Carlos, Claire, and Steve: you're with me. There'll be a few zombies to take care of. They're all yours until I've activated the switch. Let's go."

Leon watched him put the dragonfly into the recess, and go through the newly opened door. He positioned himself next to Jill, Sherry at his side. He kept the Handcannon before him as his eyes swept over the darkened room. Billy and Rebecca stayed at the opposite side of the platform, their expressions wary as they all waited for hell to break lose.

The door the others had gone through opened, and Steve came running through. "There are zombies everywhere," he gasped. "Chris says to get out here, now!"

They all followed him through the door, automatically moving to one side to make room for the next person. Leon caught a whiff of fresh night air as the first zombie reached him. It hissed, its breath showing in a fine mist, and Leon blasted it's head off. He had no idea how many there were, but they were all Crimson Heads. He continued to fire at their heads as they came at him in a seemingly endless wave. He heard cursing and shouts behind him, accompanied by the loud retorts of numerous weapons, but he didn't have time to look. He was too busy trying to keep himself alive and uninfected.

When it was over, nearly thirty of the enhanced zombies lay dead at their feet. Leon slumped against the wall at his back, dragging his eyes away from the headless corpses. His gaze moved to the building before him, and his heart nearly stopped beating.


	3. Raccoon City

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters in the work below. If I did, RE4 would have had zombies instead of bugs!

**Synopsis:** T-virus, G-virus, T-Veronica virus, Las Plagas. . .you get the drift.

**Author's Note: **This chapter: My favorite place in all of the Resident Evil world! Beta'd by the awesome Littlehouseinthewoods, the world's BEST beta. Any mistakes from here on out are MINE. Thanks in advance for any reviews I receive. I hope you like the next installment of. . .

_**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**__**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**__**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**__**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**__**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**__**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**__**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**_

Resident Evil: The Gauntlet

Chapter Three: Raccoon City

The building rose up two stories before them, plain columns flanking either side of the ornate double doors. Three big white letters spelled out his worst nightmare-R.P.D. Panic began to set in, his heart beating double-time in his chest, his breathing coming so fast that he swore his lungs were going to explode. Leon fought the flashback with everything he had. He kept his eyes trained on the building that featured prominently in most of nightmares, struggling to keep his mind from replaying the events of that night, while still facing his greatest fears.

Not that it worked. Images flashed through his mind, each more devastating than the last. The Licker that had dropped from the ceiling, wounding him twice before his .9 millimeter had taken it out. The zombies that had been in nearly every section of the building, their hands tearing at his clothes, his hair, as they attempted to devour him. The giant spiders that had attacked with venom and oversized fangs, the killer plants that had poisoned him with toxic clouds.

William Birkin, mutating before his eyes, attacking him with a ferocity he could barely counter with a shotgun. Ada Wong as she lowered her gun, unwilling to kill him for the G-virus sample she'd been sent there to steal. Annette Birkin had shot her, and she had fallen over the railing. He'd tried to save her, but in the end, he had failed her.

That final, nearly fatal train ride as the monster that had once been William Birkin further mutated and triggered the train's biohazard alarm. He'd used Claire's grenade launcher to take it out, while Sherry had managed to stop the train. They'd run out of the tunnel, only to be thrown to the ground when the train—and the building they'd just left—exploded in a haze of fire and smoke.

Leon shook his head abruptly, struggling to regain control of his memories. He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, and his pulse began to level out. The adrenaline left him in a rush, and he fought to hide his suddenly shaky hands. When not on a mission, he used alcohol and nicotine to handle the adrenaline crash. And while he might not be able to have a drink, he was suddenly desperate for a smoke.

He dug a pack of cigarettes out of his tactical vest and turned away to light one. He put the lighter away and took a deep drag. He exhaled and settled back against the fence, in no hurry to go inside the building. He found eight people staring at him in apparent shock. He smirked a little and took another drag, silently waiting for the first comment.

Claire didn't disappoint him. "When did _you_ start smoking?" she asked with obvious disapproval.

"About ten years ago," he answered, keeping his voice as even as he could.

"No way." Her cerulean eyes narrowed on him. "I don't remember ever seeing you smoke before."

Leon shrugged. "None of you guys smoked, so I didn't do it around you." He didn't add that because Claire had hated the habit, he'd quit cold turkey. He'd only started again after losing her.

Chris and Billy traded a look before approaching, neither willing to mention the flashback they had all just witnessed. "Got another one?" Chris asked abruptly, settling against the door beside him.

He pulled the pack out and gave it to him. Chris took one before passing it to Billy. He lit it and inhaled deeply. "God, this tastes good," he said with fervent appreciation. "I've really missed this."

Billy kicked back with them. "I thought you quit," he said idly as he lit his own.

"So did I," Chris replied wryly. "Guess I was wrong."

Rebecca frowned at them, the look out of place on her youthful features. "You know how bad that is for you, Billy," she scolded him mildly.

"Yeah, but it's me." Billy sent her a warm smile as he continued to smoke. Rebecca might not like it, but she wasn't one to nag. He usually didn't do it around her, but he thought that tonight's circumstances warranted special consideration. "This will probably be the last one I'll have before we get down to business, sweetheart. Humor just this once, okay?"

She nodded, the look in her pale green eyes one of resignation, and Leon stifled a laugh. "Smoke outside, do you?" he asked, his voice very dry.

Billy grunted, and smiled a little. "Only in summer. I use the garage during the winter."

Jill just sighed as she looked around the courtyard where Brad Vickers had died at the hands of Nemesis. "Just smoke them fast, before more of these things find their way here."

Steve and Sherry were standing a few feet away, their eyes on the building before them, talking in low voices. "So, this is the place?" he asked her, not impressed in the least. "_This_ is what scares you so much?"

Sherry looked at him with cold blue eyes. "Wait until we get inside," she murmured silkily. "You won't be so capricious, then."

"You're still mad at me, huh?" He slanted her a glance, one corner of his thin lips quirking upwards. "You'll forgive me, Sherry. You know you can't stay made at me for long."

"Says who?" she retorted, crossing her arms over his chest.

"Says me." His green eyes took on a smug gleam. "Just wait until this is over, beautiful. I'll make it up to you, then."

She just glared at him, afraid that he would try, and equally afraid that she would let him. "Just fucking stay away from me, Burnside."

"Oh, I will—for now." Steve stuck his hands in his pants pockets, looking pleased with himself. "But later. . ."

She stiffened, outraged at his confidence, as his voice trailed off suggestively. She shot a quick glimpse at S.T.A.R.S. over her shoulder. When she saw that no one was paying attention to them, she hissed, "I hope it's worth what it's cost you, Steve. I really do."

Steve glanced over his shoulder and watched her walk away. He felt a twinge of unease and pushed it away. Sherry was mad at him on a regular basis. She might be good at holding a grudge, but not against him. He'd had her number for the last year, and they both knew it.

Sherry approached Leon warily, not wanting any of S.T.A.R.S. at her back. It was bad enough that Steve Burnside was there. "Leon, we should go."

Leon looked at her with troubled blue eyes. "Did you know?" he asked quietly, gesturing towards the building. "Did you know that we'd be forced to return here?"

"Not for sure," she answered, her arms around her waist in a self-conscious gesture, "but I'm not surprised. We're being put through our paces, after all."

He only nodded and threw the cigarette to the ground. He crushed it under the heel of his black boot, drew the Handcannon, and walked to her side. "Are you ready for this?"

"No," she answered frankly, "but we don't have a choice."

Chris listened to the exchange, his gut tightening with trepidation. He didn't believe that Leon knew exactly what was going on here, but he was sure that Sherry Birkin did. He exchanged a glance with Jill, who inclined her head slightly. She would question them both in her calm, non-intrusive manner, and she'd find out just what was up. He'd work on Burnside from his end, and they'd figure it out between the two of them.

For now. . .he checked the Riot Gun and pushed away from the gate. "Claire, do you have your lock pick?"

She nodded, her expression questioning. "Why?"

"Because of this." Chris held the master key aloft so they could all see it. "This worked on all of the non-electronic doors in the last scenario. It might not work here, but I don't know for sure."

Chris handed the key the key to Jill, who shook her head and stepped away. "Damn it, Jill-"

"I have a lock pick of my own," Jill reminded him serenely. "You couldn't break into a child's diary if your life depended on it, Chris Redfield. You keep it. You're going to need it."

He frowned at her before putting it away. "Leon, how good are you with those tools of yours?" he asked curtly.

The younger man's smile was slow and smug, and Chris had his answer. "Good." He looked up at the building he'd once worked in and took a deep breath. "Let's go."

Leon locked his jaw as he grabbed Sherry's hand and followed. This was the last place on earth he wanted to be. He'd barely survived his first day on the job, and he'd been more than happy to leave the R.P.D. behind. All of his nightmares centered around Raccoon City—and Claire Redfield.

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes meeting hers. Their cerulean depths flashed with the fire he remembered so well. Burnside shot him a dirty look, and Leon stifled the urge to ram his fist in the kid's face. Later, he promised himself. Once they survived this, he'd belt the brat one. Until then, it was hands off.

He tore his gaze from hers, and forced himself to enter the double doors of the Raccoon Police Department. He paused on the landing and surveyed the main room. At the bottom of the entrance steps was the statue of a woman. It had once held a key in the shape of a spade. He'd had to use a medallion with a freakin' _unicorn_ on it to get the key. Behind it was the reception desk. Even from here, he could see the computer screen that was currently lit up, patiently waiting to be used.

"Shit," Leon muttered under his breath. "I'll check the computer.

He stomped down the stairs and went to the computer. A few keystrokes later, he was informed that the side doors were already unlocked. "Thank you, God."

"We don't need the card?"

He looked up to see Claire standing on the other side of the desk, her beautiful features somber. "No, the doors are open," he answered, his voice quiet.

"Good." Claire fidgeted with the gun in her hand. "I saw what happened outside, Leon. Are you going to be okay?"

Leon nodded, his crystalline eyes trained on her face. "It doesn't happen very often anymore."

Her gaze slammed into his as she lifted her head. "About Steve," she began only to be cut off.

"Don't, Claire." He looked down at the screen, his hair sliding into his face, partially obscuring his expression. "Just. . .don't, okay?"

She stared at him for a moment longer before sighing. "Later, then."

"Yeah," he replied awkwardly. _Much later,_ his mind echoed.

He left the enclosure and went back to the others. "There was a Licker and zombies that way," he pointed to the first door on the left side of the hall, "and more zombies and some crows there. The dogs are in the second floor hallway."

Chris followed his gaze to the right and nodded. "We'll take that one. Jill, you and Leon take the other door. Contact me if you find anything."

"Alright." Jill smiled at him before signaling her team to follow. "Leon, do you remember this place well enough to guide us?"

"Yeah, I remember it." Leon scowled as he reached for the doorknob. "Don't you?"

"Of course," she answered with a serene smile.

He palmed the Handcannon and pushed the door open. On his right was the information desk, on his left was a bench and yet another trunk. "Here we go again," he said to no one in particular.

"Great," he heard Jill mutter behind him.

He opened the trunk and pulled out four plugs, each in the shape of a chess piece. "Well, this is a hellava lot easier than last time," he said with surprise.

"What are they?" Billy asked with a frown.

"Connection plugs," Sherry answered for him. "I remember seeing those when I got the Club Key for Claire. They opened a door that led to the Basement 1 hallway, and the parking garage. There's a weapons storage room down there, too."

"And an autopsy room," Leon added with a shudder. "There was a red card key in one of the lockers. We'll probably have to stop there."

Rebecca moaned. "More zombies?"

"I'm afraid so," he said. "They were in the hallway itself, too."

"Great." She squared her shoulders and gestured towards the brown screen. "And door number two?"

"The Licker." Leon closed the trunk with a soft, decisive thunk. "I'll take the front, now. We should start checking doors, too. I'm wondering how many of them we'll really need. I'm betting that half of them are just for show."

"Like the Spenser Mansion facade," Jill murmured, her eyes lingering on his deceptively innocent features. He held her gaze for a long moment before she inclined her head. "You're on point then, Leon."

He smiled faintly as he ducked his head. "Thanks, Jill."

"I trust you," was all she said in return. She squeezed his arm and stepped away. "Billy and I will cover the back, if that's acceptable."

"More than," he responded gruffly. "Sherry?"

She was at his side in an instant, her slim body drawn taut, her gun in her hand. He squeezed her shoulder briefly. "Stay behind me, honey."

She scowled, but did as he asked, ending up beside Rebecca. Leon hid a smile and turned towards the partition. "Let's go."

Leon rounded the screen, grateful when nothing crawled past the small window next to the door. He lifted the Handcannon and pushed the door open. The power box for the window shutters was undamaged, the metal shutters closed. He breathed a silent sigh of relief and rounded the corner. The headless corpse that he had been expecting was missing, but the pool of blood just past it was not.

He spared a glance for the metal door to his right but kept going. They'd check it in a minute. For now, he had a monster to kill. As he approached the large bloodstain, he was grateful that he had the .50 caliber Handcannon with him. He wasn't getting himself wounded this time.

He heard the sound, not quite a hiss, more like a heavy exhalation. He looked up and there it was, clinging to the ceiling. It looked like a man that had been turned inside out. He could see its shoulder blades, its spine; even its brain was visible. An incredibly long red tongue flicked out, barely missing Leon's head, and he jumped back.

It dropped to the ground before him, scrambling towards him with the incredible speed that he remembered so well. Leon pumped to two rounds into its head, and the Licker was thrown backwards. Its arms and legs jerked unevenly, its loud screech echoing through the hallway, as it died.

Billy approached the Licker cautiously, nudging the overmuscled B.O.W. with his foot. "So, this is a Licker," he said, studying it closely. "Kind of reminds of a Hunter, only inside out."

Leon shrugged. "I'm just glad there was only one of them," was all he said in return. He didn't add that Hunters weren't what gave him nightmares, the damned Lickers were. He turned to the metal door and gave the handle a try. It opened easily, and was instantly on guard.

"This room was locked the last time," he threw over his shoulder. "I had to find a special key to get in."

Jill frowned delicately at his words. "You're sure?" she asked.

"Yeah." Leon entered the room cautiously. A copy machine sat to his right, shelves ahead and to the left. "Sherry, check the copier for a map. I'll get the crank."

She nodded. "I'm on it."

He rounded the shelves, smirking at the small staircase that rested against one wall. He pushed it to the end of the room, where a high cabinet with glass doors stood. He climbed the stairs and, sure enough, there was the crank. He grabbed it and hopped down, meeting Sherry at the door.

"I printed a map," she said, holding up a piece of paper.

"And I found a crank," Leon said drolly, imitating her actions.

"Oh, goodie." Sherry gave him the map as they left the room. "So, on to the zombie fest?"

Leon remembered the five or six zombies he'd encountered near the darkroom and groaned. "Yeah, we'll check all the doors in between, hit the darkroom, and then the S.T.A.R.S. office on the second floor."

Rebecca's pale green eyes widened at that. "Do you really think they recreated that, too?"

"Probably." Leon looked at Jill, wondering who was in the picture he'd found on her desk. It sure as hell hadn't been Chris. "There weren't any zombies the next hallway. The windows were all boarded up, but the zombies outside tried to grab you through the boards if you got too close to the windows. There were plenty of zombies near the darkroom, though."

"We'll be careful," was all Jill said, surreptitiously rubbing her arms.

Billy just laughed, though the sound was forced. "I wonder if they called them Crimson Heads because of the red mist they spit, or the color of their heads as they explode?"

Leon burst out laughing, grateful to other man for breaking the tension, if only for a few moments. "I thought it was because most of them had red hair," he offered dryly.

Billy smiled nastily. "Burnside's got red hair," he pointed out evilly.

Rebecca turned those big jade eyes on him. "Billy!" she admonished with shock.

A slow smile spread across Leon's face. "A mistake that anyone could make," he drawled in return.

Sherry grinned at that, knowing that they were joking, but wishing that Steve were there to hear them. She'd love to see the look on his face as they discussed filling his pretty face full of lead. No matter what he could do, he'd be scared shitless. A fighter, he wasn't!

Jill was trying her hardest not to smile. They reminded her of Forest and Joseph, and the gallows humor they'd both shared. Joseph had been killed by the Cerberus Dobermans in the forest outside of the Spencer mansion. Forest had been mauled by the dogs into retreating to the east balcony of the mansion, where the infected crows had finished him off. It still hurt to think about them, but eight years had enabled her to do so without crying, and to remember them with a smile.

"We should go," she said at length. "We're wasting too much time."

Leon nodded sharply and headed for the door at the end of the hall. "Single file, then. Keep away from the windows."

The next hallway was just as it had been eight years ago. Boards covered the windows, streaked with blood and grime. A collapsed table sat on the floor to his right, the passage narrowing just beyond it. The distant groans of the undead came to them, indicating that the glass on the windows was completely gone. Leon glanced over his shoulder, making sure that Sherry was all right, before slowly moving forward.

He kept to the right, staying as far away from the windows as possible. He took the next corner, then the next, spying the blue double doors of the conference room. "We'll check this one next."

"I found a keycard in there," Jill told him, "but not much else."

"I found a ruby the size of a fist," Leon said with a shake of his head. "It was hidden behind a painting of a man being hanged."

"Chief Irons had strange taste," Sherry said, remembering how she'd seen the R.P.D.'s police chief hunting survivors down. "He wasn't the nicest guy in the world, either."

"That's what Claire said," Rebecca said with a shiver. "Once she'd read his diary, she wished that she'd been the one to kill him."

Leon grunted and opened the door. To his shock, there were several zombies milling around the cluster of small desks. "Shit!" he exclaimed as he moved to one side and brought the Handcannon up.

One shot to the head of each was enough to kill most of them. He'd only bagged the three closest to him, himself. He wasn't sure, but he thought that Sherry got two. Jill had traded her grenade launcher for her Beretta, and unloaded two clips into two of them. Rebecca used the Blacktail on three, and Billy took out the last four with the Matilda.

Jill glared at the decayed, headless bodies with angry blue-gray eyes. "What the hell were they doing in here?"

"I don't know." Leon shook head and began to step over them. "I'll check the back room. You see if there's anything in the drawers. I remember a few of them being locked."

"They were," she muttered as she began to pick the lock on the nearest desk drawer. "Damn zombies."

He went into the back room, his blue eyes widening as a Crimson Head rushed him. He barely managed to get his gun up in time. He took its head off and shoved the still shuffling body to the ground. "That's it!" he exclaimed as he reloaded the Handcannon. "Once this is done, I'm killing the bitch, and that's final!"

"Leon?" Sherry approached him warily, unnerved by his words.

His head snapped up, the look in his eyes a strange combination of fury, hatred, and fear. "Why is she doing this?" he asked in a low voice. "You know a lot more than you've let on, and I can't let it slide anymore. I need to know, Sherry."

She hesitated, and then sighed heavily. "This is the only way she could get _him_ to agree to free us," she told him in a subdued voice.

"Who?" Leon demanded, taking an unconsciously aggressive step towards her. "Albert Wesker?"

Her pale blue eyes were wide and frightened as she whispered, "Yes."

Leon inhaled harshly and backed away, her betrayal burning through him. "Who am I really working for, Sherry?"

"The U.S. government." Sherry blinked back tears at the distrust in his eyes. "He proved too much for them, so they hired him to continue Umbrella's research for them, so that he wouldn't be an adversary anymore."

"Fuck," he hissed vehemently, his voice hushed to prevent the others form hearing. He turned and kicked the mantle to the fireplace, trying to control his rage. "Go back to the others, Sherry. Tell them I'm alright. I'll be out in a minute."

"Leon. . ." her voice trailed off as he refused to face her. "I'm sorry," she said finally, her voice very soft, before leaving the little room.

Leon's hand shook with anger as he pulled the lighter out of his vest and lit the kindling in the fireplace. His own government, he thought bitterly. No wonder President Graham had never sent him for a psych evaluation. He'd probably been in on this little deception from the moment he took office.

He wondered just how long Sherry had been of aware of Albert Wesker's involvement, and how she had survived his undoubtedly cruel experimentation. He had no doubt that, even as the government had been sterilizing Raccoon City, they had been coming to an arrangement with the supposedly immortal Albert Wesker. Well, at least he knew why his requests to go after the former Umbrella agent and researcher had been denied.

He watched a key fall from the painting with a frown and was momentarily distracted. It was shaped like a diamond. It was the same key that had been in the storeroom where he'd used the two red jewels. This would certainly save him a trip, he thought caustically, too pissed to be grateful.

The anger rose up in him, and Leon forced it away, focusing on getting him and Sherry out of this test alive. He no longer expected their freedom. Wesker wasn't the kind of man to let his favorite lab rat go, and Leon was the key to keeping Sherry in line. He also hated Chris Redfield, and Claire by association. He'd tried to kill them both, and he'd probably try again. The most Leon could do was be there when it happened, and try to stop it.

And probably die in the process. He faced that knowledge fatalistically. It was too late for him, and maybe even for Sherry. But he would do his best to save her and the rest of S.T.A.R.S. If he did die, Wesker would lose his hold over Sherry, at least. That alone almost made it worth it.

He carefully schooled his features and rejoined the others. "I found a key," he informed them, holding the diamond key up. "This will get us into some important doors."

"Good." Jill smiled and held up a can of first aid spray. "This is all I found. Think it's a hint?"

"God, I hope not," he said with a sigh. "Let's head for the darkroom, and be prepared for zombies."

Billy grunted and checked his weapon. "I'm running low on ammo. Is that offer still open?"

"Always." Leon dug all of his .9 millimeter bullets out of the attaché case and gave them to him. "Take them all. I won't be using them."

"Thanks." He loaded the Matilda until it was full again, stashing the remaining bullets in his tactical vest. "This is much better than having to search for randomly dropped rounds. Who leaves ammo in the bathroom, anyway?"

Rebecca laughed a little at that, remembering the bathrooms on the Umbrella train, and all the goodies they'd found in them. "I've always wondered about that," she said humorlessly. "I understand stashing a gun, but just a box of ammunition?"

"There's a reason Umbrella went down, you know," Jill reminded them, adding, "It wasn't because of excellent management."

"Isn't that the truth," Leon mumbled under his breath. Aloud, he said, "Let's get on with this."

"Yeah, I'm definitely ready to go home," Billy said with a sigh.

Leon and Sherry traded a glance but didn't comment as they left the room. Neither of them really had a home to go, and no idea as to what truly laid at the end of this test. Each had their own ideas, but miracles weren't something they expected. Death, maybe, but not release.

They came to a door and Leon pointed at Sherry, then to his right. She nodded and brought the Broken Butterfly up before her. He threw the door open and she ducked into the hallway. She killed the female zombie that came rushing at her before turning to help the others.

Leon went to his knees as he fired, giving Jill, Rebecca, and Billy space to move. The zombies shuffled around and came towards them, moaning, their rotting arms outstretched. Two broke through the group, spitting red mist as they hissed like snakes. Leon blasted up and caught one in the head. The skull exploded, and it loomed over him, shuffling aimlessly. He lashed out and kicked it away from him, and it dropped to the floor like a stone.

The second Crimson Head rushed past the others and lunged at Billy. He stumbled backwards, still firing, as the enhanced zombie slashed at his throat. Rebecca cried his name and caught him around the waist, trying to pull him out of the zombie's reach. Sherry, Jill, and Leon all brought up their weapons and fired point-blank into its head. It went down and stayed down, though its body never stopped twitching.

Rebecca helped Billy sit against the wall and examined the wound on his chest. It was deep, and could probably use stitches, but it wasn't fatal. Her hands shook as she mixed two herbs out of her waist pack and made a poultice. She applied it to the wound, taping a bandage over it, before throwing her arms around his neck.

"I thought you were going to die," she told him in a voice that shook.

His arms came around her, holding her tightly. "Hey, I'm okay," he told her, his voice incredibly gentle. He brushed a hand over her hair with a sigh, and raised his gaze to Leon's. "Is that offer for a more powerful gun still open?"

"Of course." Leon opened the attaché case and turned it towards him. "Take whatever you want."

Billy nodded, his cobalt eyes studying what was left of the other man's once impressive arsenal. "I'll take the shotgun," he said finally, handing the Matilda back to him.

Leon shook his head negatively. "Keep it. For backup," he clarified quietly.

Billy looked up at the handgun for a moment before putting it away. He took the Striker, his expression one of relief. "Thank you, very much."

Leon smiled crookedly and closed the case. "Just keep your ass alive, Coen. I can't stand to see a woman cry."

Rebecca sniffed and lifted her head. "I am not crying," she stated severely, then promptly hiccupped, ruining the effect.

"You never could handle a crying woman," Jill teased him, her own relief evident. "Turned you into a basket case every time."

He flushed and shrugged awkwardly before rising to his feet. "Are you alright?" he asked the other man in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

"Yeah." Billy grinned as he pressed a kiss to Rebecca's forehead. He took her hand in his as they both stood. "It doesn't even hurt anymore."

"Good." Leon turned to Sherry, his expression becoming stern. "What other weapons do you have on you?"

Sherry, who had been watching them with interest, quailed under that look. "I have a Killer 7 like yours," she answered in a small voice.

Leon drew a deep breath and calmed himself. "Has it been upgraded?" he asked in more gentle voice. She nodded, her light blue eyes downcast, and he laid a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, her expression hopeful, and he managed a tight smile. "Give it to Jill, okay?"

Sherry returned the smile shakily and handed the Killer 7 to the other woman. "Take these, too," she said, giving her three boxes of ammo.

Jill frowned as they were thrust into her hands. "Leon-"

"Take them," he ordered, and then winced as her look turned dark. "Your Beretta's not going to protect you with so many Crimson Heads here, and the grenade launcher is no good in such close quarters. Use the Killer 7, Jill. I don't want to be the one Chris kills if you die here."

Her bluish eyes widened briefly. "Thank you," she said finally, not bothering to deny his words. Chris had a temper, especially when it came to protecting the people he cared for.

"You're welcome." Leon turned away abruptly and grabbed Sherry's hand. "Come on, we'll check out the darkroom and contact the others before we go any further."

The darkroom was just as he remembered. He shared a glance with Jill, and knew that she'd been here, too. There was a metal cabinet to the left, along with yet another brown trunk. A small desk sat in the center of the room, a manual typewriter on top of it. There were lockers to his left, which had held a few random set of clothes.

Clean clothes, Leon thought with a relieved grin. "Check the cabinet," he told Sherry as he went to the lockers.

"I've got the trunk," Jill said in a resigned voice.

"We'll check the darkroom," Rebecca said, Billy nodding in agreement.

Leon's smile died as he opened the lockers and spied a pink vest hanging from one of the hangars. It had the picture of a winged angel on a motorcycle, the words "Made In Heaven" etched across the top in gold script. It was the vest that Claire had worn eight years ago, when he had first met here in Raccoon City. She had given it to Sherry, and it had disappeared with her.

"I found a roll of film," Sherry said as she approached him, "along with a bottle of first aid spray and an ink ribbon. . ."

Her voice trailed off as she saw the vest. She reached out to touch it, tears forming in her eyes. "They took it from me," she murmured, half to herself. "I'd always wondered what happened to it."

She took it off the hangar and hugged it to her. "Do you think she'd still let me keep it?" she asked in a childlike voice.

"I'm sure she will," Leon assured her, his own voice hoarse with emotion.

He put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. She laid her head on his shoulder with a ragged sigh, and he felt the urge to kill someone. Sherry hadn't deserved any of this; she'd been a child when she'd been taken. A genetic fluke had made her immune to the virus her genius father had created. If not for that anomaly, she wouldn't have survived the G-virus outbreak in the first place.

He shuddered as he remembered how small she had been. She had taken to crawling through the air ducts in the police station, trying to find a way out of the building, or someone to help her. She'd met Claire while running from an acid-spitting zombie, and they'd been inseparable.

He'd first met her on the train during their escape from Raccoon City. Like him, she'd fallen in love with Claire from the beginning. They'd both been willing to do whatever it took to reunite Claire with her beloved brother. Then, she'd left them behind, and broken both of their hearts.

Leon echoed her sigh and patted her back. "Why don't you go into the darkroom and see if you can develop that film?" he suggested quietly.

Sherry nodded and pulled away. "Are we okay?" she asked softly.

"We're more than okay," he told her, and watched her head come up with a smile. He'd told her that every day after Claire left them, and her response was the same as it had been eight years ago.

"We're family," she supplied, matching his smile, the tears gone.

"Exactly." He stepped back and jerked his head towards the darkroom. "Go."

"Yes, Sir," she grinned before dashing off to join Billy and Rebecca.

"You're good with her," Jill commented, tilting her head to one side.

Leon shrugged his broad shoulders as he went through the remaining clothes. "I'm all she has," he said at length.

Jill just nodded as approached him. "Chris gave me a quick rundown of what you've been through," she informed him calmly.

He only nodded, unsurprised. "Then, you understand why it's so important for S.T.A.R.S. to keep her safe."

"Yes." Jill paused. "What about you, Leon?"

"It doesn't matter what happens to me, Jill, so long as Sherry is safe."

Jill disagreed, but didn't comment as the others came back into the room. She watched Sherry Birkin rush back to Leon, as eager as any child to please a favorite parent, and was filled with concern. The girl was calm under pressure, almost to the point of coldness, but one harsh word from Leon turned her into an emotional wreck. And her earlier hostility to Claire showed just how much damage had been done when Claire had left the two of them behind. Would Sherry truly be able to accept S.T.A.R.S. if something happened to Leon?

Sherry's smile was bright and eager as she held up the picture she had just developed, and Leon managed a faint smile for her. He took the picture, his body stilling at the sight which greeted him. There was a man in a jail cell, wearing a panicked expression, an old-fashioned Red 9 handgun clutched to his chest. He was wearing blue jeans and a button-down white shirt, covered with a plain black vest. His black hair was longer than Leon remembered, falling nearly to his waist, his features gaunt. He looked different than he had two years ago, but that was to be expected. After all, he was dead.

_"Shit!"_

Billy's midnight eyes narrowed at his reaction. "I take it you know who that is?"

"His name is Luis Sera," Leon answered angrily. "He died two years ago in Spain."

"He doesn't look dead to me, Kennedy."

"No shit," Leon drawled sarcastically. He looked down at the picture again, his own eyes narrowing as he took in the details. The picture had been taken from the other side of the bars. There was cot at his back and to his right, and a green potted plant on the floor beside him. He remembered Ben, the reporter who had died in a holding cell below the station, and cursed fluently.

"He's in the basement," Leon announced abruptly. "There was a reporter locked in there eight years ago, and he died when he was attacked by-"

He broke off, his gaze going to Sherry. "He was attacked by one of the more horrible mutations," he continued smoothly. "He was implanted with an embryo. He died after it matured and burst from his chest."

"Ouch," Billy said with a wince.

"Do you think he's been implanted, too?" Rebecca asked, nodding at the picture.

"I hope not," Leon answered, praying that history would_ not_ repeat itself. He tucked the picture in to his tactical vest and palmed his gun. "Call Chris and tell him about Luis. If they find him first, tell him to get him out of there as fast as he can. We'll stop at the S.T.A.R.S. office, and then we'll head to the basement."

Jill nodded and brought the radio up to her lips. "Chris, this is Jill. Over."

_"Chris, here. What's up, Jill?"_

"Where are you now?" she asked.

_"We're in the east office. First floor."_

"We found a picture of a man in the basement's holding cells. Leon says that he's in danger, and to get him out of there as quickly as possible," she informed him urgently. "We're going to check the S.T.A.R.S. office, then meet you there."

_"Who is he?"_ Chris asked, his habitual frown evident in his voice.

"His name is Luis Sera, and he's a friend of Leon's. Just get him out of there, Chris. He's in danger."

_"We will, Jill. Just hurry up and meet us. I'm getting a bad feeling about this scenario."_

"Yeah, me too," Jill said softly. "Valentine, out."

She put the radio away and looked at Leon. "I found a crowbar in the chest. Does that mean anything to you?"

His blue eyes lit up at that. "Yeah, it'll get us past the cells and the Cerberus kennels, and into the sewer system. The sewers will lead us to the lab, and the way out."

"Thank God," Billy muttered. "I can't wait to get out this damn place."

L eon silently echoed the sentiment as they left the darkroom and went up the stairs to the second floor. For once, history was working in their favor. There was nothing on the landing, or the short hallway, although Jill looked as though she were expecting something. The two statues that he'd been forced to move to trigger the lock on the door were already in place, much to his relief.

Jill muttered, "Zombies," and they all pulled their weapons before opening the door.

Sure enough, they heard the moans as soon as they entered the gray hallway. Leon rounded the corner and blew the heads of the first two, Sherry taking the one at the end of the corridor. The S.T.A.R.S. office was unlocked, and they went through the double doors with trepidation.

It was empty, and there was a collective sigh of relief. Leon searched the cabinet next to the door and found a one-shot rocket launcher, similar to the one that he had purchased from the merchant in Spain. He shrugged to himself and stuck in the attaché case, no longer surprised. He had a feeling he'd need it, and Ada really _did_ seem to want him to survive.

Jill was standing at what had once been her desk, the framed picture Leon had wondered about in her hands. She was staring at it intently, the look in her gray-blue eyes one of sadness. "This was Forrest," she said in a quiet voice. "He was one of the original Alpha Team members. He died in the Spencer Mansion."

Leon studied the picture for a moment, a little surprised. The guy hadn't looked half as stern in the other picture. "He was with you?" he asked in a low voice.

She smiled somberly. "For all of three weeks before we were sent to the Arklay Mountains." She set the picture down gingerly and stepped away. "I always hated that picture. He looked like a jerk in it."

"I thought that he and Chris were friends?" he questioned hesitantly.

"They were." Jill shrugged elegantly. "Chris didn't tell me how he felt about me until after he returned from Rockfort Island. Before that, I didn't have a clue."

Leon understood. There were times when he wished he hadn't worked up the guts to tell Claire how he felt. Losing her might not have been quite so devastating, then. "We should go," he said, feeling awkward.

She only squeezed his arm and walked past him. "Billy, Rebecca, Sherry? Did you find anything?" she called out.

"A picture of S.T.A.R.S.," Rebecca answered, her voice uneven. "Wesker's in it, but so is everyone else."

Jill looked down at it with a nostalgic expression. "We'll show it to Chris," she said. "He'll love seeing it, even with Wesker there."

"Which one was your boyfriend?" Billy asked, an edge to his voice.

Rebecca blushed profusely. "He wasn't my boyfriend, Billy. We were just friends."

He grunted, unimpressed by her denial. "Which one?" he repeated flatly.

"That one," she said, sighing as she pointed to a blond man with clean-cut features. "That was Richard Aiken. He was a member of Bravo Team, like me. He died saving Chris from the FI-3 Neptune shark below the Spencer Mansion."

Billy contemplated the guy Rebecca had had a crush on eight years ago in silence. "He looks like he was a nice guy," he said at length.

"He was." Rebecca carefully folded the picture and put it in her waist pack. "I'm glad we stopped here, Jill."

"So am I, Becky." Her smile was faintly mischievous. "You didn't mention that you had a crush on Chris, as well."

"Jill!" Rebecca blushed even harder and ducked her head. "You know that only lasted until I met Billy!"

"I know," Jill returned cheekily, "but I couldn't resist teasing you."

Billy laughed, even as he shot Jill a knowing look. She knew just how possessive he was of Rebecca, even if she didn't know why. Her way of making sure he didn't feel left out, he guessed. Valentine was a classy lady, even if she did have horrible taste in men.

"Speaking of Redfield," he said into the silence, "he's probably wondering why we haven't found them, yet."

Jill took the hint with a grin and adjusted her beret. "We're going," she said, pausing to look at Sherry. "Would you be opposed to guarding our backs with me?"

The girl looked both surprised and suspicious at the question. She shot a furtive glance at Leon, who inclined his head almost imperceptibly, before nodding her assent. "Of course," she finally answered, moving to her side.

Leon sent her an encouraging smile and took the front once again. "We can get to the second floor landing by going through the lounge first, then the library," he said as he led them from the room. "There might be a Licker or two out there, but it's the quickest way to reach the other side of the building."

"We're with you, Leon."

He shot Jill a grateful smile and took them into the second floor lounge. "Sherry, check the janitor's closet." She took off like a shot, straight down into a narrow corridor off the main room.

She returned a few moments later with two boxes of .45 caliber bullets. "I found some ammo," she said, handing it to him.

"Great." Leon handed one box to Jill, and the other to Rebecca. "The library's this way. Follow me."

There was a small desk beside the door that led to the library. He'd found parts to enhance his Beretta in the drawer. It was totally wrecked, pieces of wood scattered across the floor. He stepped over the mess and opened the single gold door. Nearly twenty zombies turned towards them, and his heart sunk.

"Take the Crimson's first!" he yelled as he began to shoot.

The sound of gunfire and death rattles reverberated through the room. Leon was vaguely aware of Billy at his side as the Striker boomed in his ear. The man was an excellent shot, and didn't waste a single shell. He used the Striker to its full potential, and zombies' numbers quickly decreased.

The last zombie fell, and Leon surveyed the damage. Four still had their heads, and at least three had red hair. "Take the heads," he ordered even as he moved to do the same.

One of them was sprawled on his stomach, but was just starting to rise, when Leon placed a boot between its shoulder blades and pushed it to the floor. He took careful aim with the Handcannon and pulled the trigger. The head exploded with a sickening sound, but the corpse wouldn't be rising again.

He stepped back and watched as Billy, Sherry, and Jill took the other three. "Come on," he said, turning towards the big double doors that led to the upper level walkway.

"I take it they weren't here last time?" Billy asked dryly.

"No," he replied shortly, "they weren't."

There was only one Licker waiting on the walkway, and surprisingly enough, it was Rebecca who stepped forward and killed it. She reloaded the Blacktail calmly, saying, "I don't like them. They remind me too much of the Hunters."

Leon merely nodded before leading them to the east side of the walkway. "The lounge is this way," he said as reached the door. "There will be another trunk in here."

"Of course, there will," Jill commented snidely. "Maybe, we'll find a transporter, in this one."

He laughed as he pushed the open and stepped inside. "Good luck with that one, Jill."

Billy rolled his eyes and went straight to the trunk. "No transporter. Will this do?"

He held up a flamethrower, causing Leon to burst out laughing. "Those are for the giant, man-eating plants," he said between gasps.

"Fuck." Billy glared at the flamethrower and tossed it to him. "I hate you, Kennedy. I really do."

Leon flipped him off and wiped the moisture from his eyes. "Sorry, Coen. I can't help it."

Rebecca spied a loose piece of paper on the desk next to the typewriter and picked it up. "Leon, I think this is for you."

The laughter stopped abruptly as Leon reached out and took it. Once again, Ada's surprisingly feminine handwriting graced the page. This time, the note was short and definitely not sweet.

_Leon,_

_Sera is still alive, but probably poisoned. Use the flamethrower to save him, if you can._

_XOXOXO_

He read it grimly before handing it to Jill. Her own expression dimmed as she handed it back. "I haven't seen any blue herbs, Leon."

"I know," he responded quietly. He crumpled the note in his fist and tossed it to the floor. Rage surged up in him, and he forced it back down. He had to keep himself calm if he was going to come up with a way to save Luis.

"Warn Chris about the killer plants," he suggested as calmly as he could, putting the flamethrower in his attaché case.

He waited until she had done so to say, "Expect either zombies or Lickers in the hall. Head for the only door you'll see. If you can get through without getting hurt, go for it. Otherwise, be careful. The hall's really narrow."

Sherry approached him and hesitantly put a hand on his arm. "I can go back," she offered, "check some of the rooms we missed."

"No!" Leon took a deep breath and amended his response. "No, Sherry, I want you to stay with us. I'll find another way to save Luis."

She sighed and nodded, hating the bleak look in his eyes. "Alright," she said, dropping her hand. "You're the boss."

He brushed a hand over her hair and opened the door. He stepped out and moved quickly to the right. When nothing greeted them, he frowned. "This isn't right," he muttered. "We should've been ambushed here."

"Maybe, they're running low on B.O.W.s," Billy said wryly.

Leon snorted at that and pointed at the door behind them. "Killer crows that way."

Jill shivered and brought the Killer 7 up before her. She'd hated those crows since discovering Forrest's body, pecked to his death by the mutated birds. "The hallway is shaped like a Z," she said. "Those crows are going to give us trouble while we bumble through it."

He shook his head negatively. "We go straight to the first door, Jill. There are some stairs that lead to the first floor, and the east office. We'll find Chris and the others soon enough."

She looked at him and managed a small smile. "You've become a good leader, Leon. I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you, Jill." He returned her smile sadly and turned towards the door. "Keep close in here, just in case."

"We will."

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Ada stood before the wall of monitors, hiding a smile as she watched Leon lead his unit safely through the building. They were right behind Redfield and his team, though they couldn't know that. Redfield had been caught up in the interrogation room when not one but three Lickers had burst through the glass. Two of them had been wounded, and they were currently healing themselves. It wouldn't be long before the two parties met, and made their way to the basement.

She glanced at the man sitting in the main chair, sending him an intimate smile. Albert Wesker barely noticed as he leaned forward, muttering to himself about Chris Redfield's luck. His unusual eyes were hidden by a pair of black shades, but didn't need to see them to know that they were locked on Redfield's image. Albert hated the man more than anything else on earth, and he had no intention of letting him survive this gauntlet.

Not that she cared, either. He and his bitch sister could drop dead now, and Ada wouldn't mourn them. Leon and Sherry were her only concern. She had done all that she could to ensure their survival, and she would continue to help from behind the scenes. She'd sent Steve in to keep Leon from getting too close to Claire, but she'd made up for that by giving him Luis.

Ada had no idea what Leon liked about the cocky, braggart Spaniard, but it had been enough to cause _him_ to mourn the man's passing. So, she had overlooked the man's failure in Spain and brought him to Wesker for revival. Albert hadn't seen the point, but he'd been willing to indulge her. He'd left Sera's care entirely in her hands, and Ada had waited patiently for the day when she could restore him to Leon. When it had failed to come, she'd taken matters into her own hands.

Soon enough, they would find Luis in the holding cells, poisoned but curable. She'd left just two blue herbs outside of the cell, against the opposite wall, just beyond Sera's reach. Leon wasn't a stupid man. He'd see them, and he'd cure Sera, and he'd have a much needed ally in his bid for freedom. S.T.A.R.S. wasn't going to last long enough to help.

_**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**__**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**__**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**__**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**__**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**__**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**__**TVIRUSGVIRUST/**_

Leon led the team through the crow hall without incident, and down the metal stairs outside. They entered the east wing corridor, spying zombies in the office through the single open door to their left. Leon knelt, Billy beside him, and they all shot at the zombies as they shuffled through the doorway single file. There were only five of them, and most were knocked back into the office by the force of the high-caliber bullets ripping into their skulls.

Leon stepped over the one headless body that had fallen into the hall and approached the single metal door straight ahead. He tried the diamond-shaped key, cursing when it didn't work. "Stand back," he told the others, aiming the Handcannon at the knob and blowing it clean off.

The moans were instantaneous and many. Leon shoved the door open and hurried through it. He walked forward and rounded the left corner, taking the first zombie with a single shot to the head. Two more turned at the sound of the blast, and he and Billy made quick work of them.

"The staircase at the end leads to the first floor basement," he announced. "More zombies in the hall, and a weapons storage room. We hit that and go straight to the underground parking garage. The storage room should be empty, but the garage won't be. There were three dobies there."

Sherry shuddered. "I hate those damn things."

"Me too," Rebecca commiserated.

Billy grunted. "I'm not worried about the damned dogs, girls."

Leon smiled crookedly. "Good, because there might be more in the hall outside of the holding cells."

Jill made an inarticulate sound and reloaded the Killer 7 with a loud smack. "I knew there was a reason I bought a cat," she said to no one in particular.

Leon ran a hand through his tawny hair and gestured with his gun. "Let's go," he said curtly. "I want to get downstairs before something happens to Luis."

Billy pointed to a door just past the stairs. "What about that room?"

"Ammo," he and Jill answered at once.

Billy nodded. "I'll check it out."

"Not without me, you won't," Rebecca said, following him into the room.

They returned a few minutes later with five steel arrows. "What the hell are we supposed to do with these?" he asked with exasperation.

"Those are meant for Claire," Sherry told him quietly. "She had a bow gun the last time we were here."

"Oh." Billy shrugged and tucked them away in his tactical vest. "We're ready, then."

Leon looked down the darkened stairwell, drew a deep breath, and walked forward. He heard the deep, animalistic groans before he hit the hallway. He cursed silently and forced himself to keep going. The zombies weren't the strongest, fastest B.O.W.s Umbrella had ever produced, but they were what he was truly afraid of. And of course, they were fucking everywhere!

"Billy, go low," he said tiredly, squatting against the left wall.

Billy took the right, Rebecca between and slightly behind them. Jill and Sherry remained on their feet, as they waited for the walking corpses to appear. The first came around the left corner, and Leon fired. The first shot hit it in the chest, and it kept coming. Billy's shot took its head, and it fell to the floor. The second appeared moments later, and Leon adjusted his aim and blew its skull apart. Two more came around the corner, and they all began to fire.

Leon fought not to laugh as they fell over, their decomposing bodies still twitching. It would have been hysterical laughter, and he didn't want the others to know just how terrified he really was. He fought the fear down as he stood, reloading the Handcannon, even though it wasn't necessary. It bought him a few moments to pull himself together, and that was all that he needed.

He kept the gun up before him as he carefully made his way to the intersection. It was clear and he relaxed fractionally. He glanced to his left and checked the weapons room. The light on the card reader was green, and he groaned with relief.

"What is it?" Billy asked, raising the Striker in anticipation.

"The storage room is open," Leon told him. "That was a good groan, not a bad one."

"Uh-huh." Billy shook his head and headed for the room.

Leon followed and went straight to the metal lockers at the end of the small room. He found a SAWs light machine gun and a side pack. He grabbed the side pack and held it up. "Anyone interested in a side pack?"

The girls all shook their heads negatively, and Billy snatched it. "I'll take it, then," he said, removing his S.T.A.R.S. vest and trading it for the side pack. He emptied the vest and stocked the new one, ignoring the Umbrella logo on the back. He pulled the S.T.A.R.S. vest back over it, but let it hang open.

"So no one sees the logo," he explained at Leon's questioning look. "I don't want one of the others shooting me before they realize I'm not some Umbrella spook."

"Probably a good idea." Leon smiled wryly and grabbed the machine gun. "Who's up for a faster gun?"

Sherry stepped forward immediately. "I'll take it," she said, strapping it to her back. She didn't mention that it was for Steve; she was pretty sure that Leon wouldn't appreciate it. "Every girl should have a back up."

He nodded approvingly, his crystal blue eyes warming. "Are we ready?"

"Yeah," she said softly, moving closer to him.

"I'm ready," Rebecca said as she pocketed two clips of bullets.

Jill tossed Billy a box of shotgun shells and palmed the last clip of .45 caliber bullets. "I'm done."

Leon clasped Sherry's hand briefly before stepping away. "On to the parking garage, then."

They returned to the hall and went through the door to the parking garage. Low growls sounded near them, and Leon quickly aimed to his right. He pumped two rounds into the mutated Doberman, and it died with a yelp. He heard another yelp to his left and turned to find Billy ginning.

"Two down, one to go," he said softly.

They took a few steps into the garage and the third dog came running. It leapt at Billy, who pumped the Striker and pulled the trigger. The round hit the Cerberus at close range and threw it back a good three feet. It yelped, dead before it hit the ground.

Billy patted the Striker fondly. "Hell of a gun you've got here, Kennedy."

"Yeah, it's a favorite," Leon replied with a smile.

He spied the large police wagon that blocked the exit door and frowned. He remembered meeting Ada here, and helping her push the paddy wagon out of the way. He shook his head to clear it and strode to the truck. He put his shoulder against it and began to push. Billy appeared beside him, and the truck slowly began to move forward. It came to a stop against the wall, and the double doors were clear.

"Thanks," he said, already striding to the door. He threw it open and hurried into the corridor. He pointed to the door on the right and said, "Dogs," even as he passed it. He paused outside of the next door, holstering the Handcannon, and drew the flamethrower.

"The giant plants will be in here, so stay back," he ordered, ignoring Coen's dark look. "If you don't kill them with fire, they'll just regenerate. So, let me take care of them."

He nodded curtly, not happy, but unable to refute the other man's logic. "And if you get poisoned?"

"We'll deal with it." Leon inhaled deeply and opened the door.

He walked to the iron mesh gate, watching with narrowed eyes as the two plants defied the laws of physics and stood on vine-like legs. He hit the button to his right and the gate slid open. He pulled the trigger and flames burst from the barrel. The plants made strange, hissing-like sounds as the fire engulfed them.

He sidestepped as the first plant spit at him. The noxious green substance hit the floor beside him, but left him untouched. The second came closer, missing him by less than an inch, but it was enough. They died within moments of each other, collapsing on the ground and curling in on themselves. A few stray tendrils whipped the floor around them, but those were merely the plant's death-throes.

Leon stepped through the opening and carefully avoided them as he stepped over the charred remains. He saw the two blue herbs and prayed that Luis had survived long enough for them to be needed.

He found Luis Sera sprawled on the bunk, his breathing labored as his system vainly fought the poison. "Luis!"

The Spaniard frowned and tried to raise his head. It fell back weakly, and Leon knew that he had only minutes to save him. He dropped the flamethrower, drew the Handcannon, and fired three shots at the tiny keyhole. It dented but refused to give, and Leon cursed. He lifted his foot and began to kick the lock with all of his strength.

The barred door swung open on the third try, and Leon grabbed one of the herbs before rushing inside. "Hold on," he told the other man desperately, doing his best to crush the herb.

Sera's pale blue eyes flickered and opened. "Leon?" he asked, his weak voice incredulous.

"Yeah, it's me." Leon slid an arm beneath his shoulders and raised him. "Eat this, Luis. It will counter the effects of the poison."

Luis chewed on the not-so-fine powder with an unconscious grimace. He tried twice before he could swallow it. Leon eased him into a sitting position, propping him up against the bunk. He felt uneasy in here, remembering what had come through the wall to kill Ben, but Luis wasn't ready to be moved yet.

He grabbed the green herb off the floor beside the bunk and crushed it as well. "One more," he said, watching closely to make sure Luis ate it all.

"Dios!" The Spaniard exclaimed feebly. "That was horrible, cop. What the hell did you give me?"

Leon laughed as relief swept through him. "Don't bitch, Luis. I just saved your life."

Luis Sera smiled sickly. "It's good to see you, Leon."

"You too." Leon clasped his hand hard. "Rest for a few minutes and let the herbs do their job."

Sherry came into the cell and knelt beside him, her azure eyes full of curiosity as they landed on Luis. Leon ran a hand over her blond hair, his hand settling on her shoulder. He looked up to find Luis staring at her with fascinated blue eyes, and his hackles rose instantly.

"Is she with you?" he asked, and Leon wanted to throttle him.

"She's my daughter, Luis."

Luis blinked at the menace in his voice. "Aren't you a little young to have a daughter her age, _amigo_?"

"Sherry survived Raccoon City with me," Leon told him quietly. "She's the only family I've got."

"Ah." Luis took the hint and concealed his interest. He extended his hand with a respectful smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Sherry Kennedy."

Sherry flushed upon hearing her name linked with her father's. "It's Birkin," she replied with regret. She placed her hand in his and added, "But thank you, Mr. Sera."

"Call me Luis." He looked at the blond man with the bleak eyes and shrugged. "So, what's next, cop?"

Leon imitated the gesture, his gaze going to the doorway, where the rest of his team waited in silence. "Luis Sera, meet Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, and Billy Coen. They're half of the Special Rescue And Tactics Squad, formerly of Raccoon City."

Luis' eyes widened fractionally. "A pleasure," he said quickly, not liking the hostile look the tattooed soldier was giving him. He swung his legs to the floor and pushed himself to his feet. "You were right about those herbs, Leon. I feel better already."

"Good." Leon stood and grabbed the Red 9 from the floor. He gave it to the other man with a shake of his head. "You're still using this old relic?"

_"Si."_ Luis grinned as he reloaded the old-fashioned revolver. "Me and Carmelita are a team, _amigo_."

"God, not another one," Billy groaned as he rolled his eyes.

Jill smothered a smile at that. "Leon, Chris is on his way here. They ran into a few Lickers upstairs, and it delayed them."

Leon nodded as calmly as he could. "They're alright, though?" he asked worriedly.

"They're fine," she assured him, stepping back into the hall. "They'll be here soon."

Relieved, he smiled and walked out of the cell, pausing to retrieve the remaining blue herb. Sherry followed close on his heels, Luis a few feet behind. They all backtracked to the hall to wait for the rest of S.T.A.R.S. They all leaned back against the walls, taking the opportunity to rest. Leon observed Billy's seemingly perpetual scowl, this time directed at Luis Sera. He sighed, knowing that he had to question Luis about his presence here, but hating that it was necessary.

"How did you get out of Spain?" he asked abruptly, turning his head to impale the man on his left with his eyes.

Luis' lips thinned. "The _senorita _ in the red dress," he all but spat.

"Of course." Leon rested his head against the back of the wall. "Are you human anymore?"

"As far as I know," the Spaniard replied flatly.

Leon uttered a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, Luis, but I have to ask these questions."

Luis merely shrugged. "It's cool, cop."

He smiled faintly. "Do you remember how you got here?"

"Sorry," the other man said shortly. "I woke up in that cell, that _ramera loca_ standing outside, with a fucking camera pointed at me. Of course, those damn plants didn't attack _her_," he added bitterly.

"No," Leon said in a harsh voice, "I'm sure they didn't."

Luis ignored the skeptical looks he was receiving from Leon's comrades. "She really is crazy, Leon. She said that the only reason I was alive was because of _you_."

Clear blue eyes narrowed with obvious hatred, and Luis put a few inches between them before asking a question of his own. "Why don't you tell _me_ why I spent two years in an eight-by-ten cell, instead of being buried in the family plot in Madrid?"

Leon flinched visibly, and Sherry had had enough. "Back off," she snarled, placing her body between them. "None of this is Leon's fault."

"Sherry." Leon placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping that would be enough to restrain her. Her slender body shook beneath his hand, very real proof of her anger. "Don't, honey. He has a right to his questions, too."

"He'd better watch his mouth, then." She glared at the other man before resuming her place at his left side.

Leon sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "It all begins with a viral outbreak in the Arkham Mountains," he began, and told as much of the story as he knew. Jill and Rebecca broke in from time to time, adding their parts in the very real nightmare that Umbrella had unleashed on the world. Luis looked poleaxed by the time they had finished, and Leon couldn't blame him. It was like being stuck in a bad horror movie without a pause button.

"I should have known," Luis said at the end. "I had just transferred to the crime lab in my precinct when I met Ada Wong. She walked in one day, flashed a badge I didn't recognize, and proceeded to tell me about the resurrection of the Los Illuminados."

"She was the one who sent you to Saddler?" Leon asked sharply.

"Yeah, the bitch." He ran a hand through his overlong hair in a nervous gesture. "I didn't put it together at the time, but the T-virus sample in cold storage was stolen shortly afterwards. She must have been there to take it."

"Probably," Leon said with resignation. "She was in Raccoon City to steal the G-virus when I met her."

Luis grunted at that. "What the hell does she want with you, Leon?"

"Something she's never going to get," he stated flatly.

The other man began to laugh, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. "She brought me back to life because she wants a piece of ass?"

Leon scowled and looked away, supremely uncomfortable discussing the subject before his former comrades, and his adopted daughter. "It's a little more complicated than that," he snapped, beginning to get angry himself.

"Well, at least it explains why I'm here," Luis commented sourly.

"What do you mean?" Billy asked, his fine features tense.

"She told me that I owed Leon my life." Luis met Leon's gaze squarely. "She said that if you died, I would follow. I guess I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen."

_"Fuck!"_ If Ada had appeared in that moment, Leon would have put a bullet in her devious little head. As it was, he was going to kill just as soon as he came across her. "Don't worry, Luis. Ada Wong is a walking dead woman, she just doesn't know it yet."

Luis' smile was slow and nasty. "You need any help with that, you just let me know."

Sherry listened to them with a deepening sense of dread. She understood why Leon hated Ada Wong, but she was torn. Ada had taken care of her, done everything she could to make Sherry's captivity easier. She'd also given her Steve Burnside, a mixed blessing ay best, but something Sherry would always be grateful for. Now, she was forced to side against her by the very man Ada had worked so hard to protect. Sherry was afraid of what would happen when she was forced to make that choice.

The sound of a door opening had them all drawing their weapons. Chris and the rest of his team entered the hall, and they relaxed. Chris walked straight to Jill and pulled her into his arms, his eyes closing as he just held her. Carlos was sporting a new bandage across his left shoulder, but otherwise looked fine. Burnside looked pissed as he fingered a bandage on his forehead, and Leon stifled the urge to laugh. Looked like kid wasn't as tough as he liked to think he was.

Claire's beautiful features were drawn, but her cerulean eyes flashed with fire. She sent him a weary smile, which died when her gaze moved to Sherry. "You kept it," she said, her surprise obvious.

Sherry shrugged uncomfortably. "I found it upstairs," she said awkwardly.

Claire tried her hide her disappointment behind another smile. "Well, at least my god's still protecting you," she said with forced humor.

The younger woman crossed her arms over her chest. "There is no god, Claire. I'd have thought you'd figured that out by now."

"Sherry!" Claire, and the rest of S.T.A.R.S., looked shocked by her words. Except for Coen, Leon noted. Billy's expression suggested that he agreed, even if he didn't vocalize it.

"Leave it alone, Claire." Leon shook his head and changed the subject. "This Luis Sera. He's an old friend of mine."

Claire smiled and let the subject go. "Good to meet you. I'm Claire Redfield."

Luis' smile was both charming and empty. "A pleasure, _Senora_."

Leon shot him a look at the title usually reserved for married women, and wondered just what Ada had told him about Claire. "This is her brother, Chris. He's the leader of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team," Leon added.

Chris inclined his head, keeping one arm around Jill as he released her. "This is Carlos Olivera," he said with a gesture, "and Steve Burnside."

Luis' pale eyes lit up. "_Habla usted espanol?"_

_"Si, el extrangero, yo hago,"_ Carlos replied with a genuine grin.

_"De gracious a Dios." _ Luis jerked a thumb in Leon's direction as he spoke. _"El gringo aqui trata, pero el no hace asi bien."_

Leon snorted. "Screw you, Sera. There's nothing wrong with my Spanish."

"Nothing that a few years in Spain wouldn't cure, maybe." Luis laughed at his disgruntled expression. "I'm just kidding, _mi amigo._ You do better than most Americans."

"Gee, thanks." Leon pushed away from the wall and looked at Chris. "Do you guys need a break?"

Chris traded glances with his team. Claire and Carlos shook their heads negatively. Burnside just shrugged. "We'd rather keep going."

"Let's get out of here then." Leon drew the Handcannon and looked to Jill. "Do you still have that crowbar?"

"Of course." She handed it to him with a smile. Chris frowned as he watched Jill hand her authority over with it. She stilled him with a glance and a hand on his arm. "We're ready, Leon. Lead the way."

He nodded and took the next corner. "Beware of dogs," he said before pushing the door open. Two Cerberus' came at him and he fired a round into the skull of each. One dropped with a yelp, the other shook its head and growled as it gained its feet.

"I've got it." Luis took aim with the Red 9 and blew its skull apart. "I don't remembering seeing _those_ in the village, cop. What the hell are they?"

"Remnants of the T and G-virus experiments," Leon answered.

"Wonderful." The other man shook his head and followed him inside. "Any other surprises I should be looking for?"

"Zombies," he replied absently as he used the crowbar on the manhole cover.

"Lickers," Luis heard from behind him.

"Hunters."

"Giant poisonous spiders."

"Killer crows."

"Tyrants."

"Crimson Heads."

"Bandersnatchers."

"Nemesis."

He glanced at the large group of people behind him with wide blue eyes. "What, no giant, man-eating rats?" he asked, only half kidding.

They all laughed, and he turned back to Leon. "You're friends are all crazy, Leon."

"No crazier than either of us, Luis." Leon finally got the cover open and pushed it aside. "Who's first?"

"You are," came the unanimous reply.

Leon smiled involuntarily. "You got it."

"And Leon?" Chris called out.

He paused. "Yeah, Chris?"

"No jumping this time, okay?"

He met the other man's gaze and found a softening he hadn't expected. "No jumping, Chris. I promise."

Leon's gaze snagged Claire's gaze briefly before he lowered himself onto the ladder. He heard muttering in Spanish above him, followed by Sherry's voice, and smiled to himself. It looked as though his family had just gotten a little bigger. Maybe, he'd be able to survive this, after all.

Then, he reached the end of the ladder and discovered that he had a good five-foot drop below him. He shouted a warning up the ladder and carefully let go. He landed with a thump, throwing his hands out to steady him as the ground seemed to founder beneath his feet. He moved out of the way, his eyes taking in his surroundings with mild surprise. He hadn't really been expecting this, but he knew that he should have. Wesker was nothing if not thorough.

And it was too much. Leon jumped down to the ground and ended up on his ass, his arms clutching his stomach as he laughed. Tears rolled from his eyes and his breath became jerky, but he just couldn't stop.

"What are you laughing about?" Luis landed above him, cursing fluently as the ground seemed to _dent_ beneath his feet. "Is this a car roof?" he asked, disbelief lacing his words.

"Yep," Leon gasped between bouts of mirth, just waiting for Luis' reaction to their environment.

The other man dropped to the ground beside him, his eyes widening dramatically, and joined in the laughter. Sherry and the others followed quickly, all of them looking confused as they glanced around. Leon leaned against the fence at his back, and did his best to calm down. Chris turned a frown on him, and the effort was lost.

"What the hell is so funny, Leon?" Chris glanced at Sherry, who shrugged as she jumped off of the vehicle. His midnight blue eyes studied their surroundings with confusion and a hint of fear. "Does anyone know where the hell we are?"


	4. Spain?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters in the work below. If I did, RE4 would have had zombies instead of bugs!

**Synopsis:** T-virus, G-virus, T-Veronica virus, Las Plagas. . .you get the drift.

_**TVIRUSGVIRUST/TVIRUSGVIRUST/TVIRUSGVIRUST/TVIRUSGVIRUST/TVIRUSGVIRUST/TVIRUSGVIRUST/TVIRUSGVIRUST/**_

Resident Evil: The Gauntlet

Chapter Four: Spain?

Leon used his t-shirt to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He pushed himself to his feet, still grinning ear-to-ear. "Welcome to sunny Spain," he said breathlessly. "Home of the Los Illuminados and the Las Plagas parasite."

"And one Luis Sera." Luis stood, shaking his head as he dusted his jeans off. "I never thought I'd see this place again."

"_You're_ from _here_?" Sherry looked around with one eyebrow raised. "Funny, you don't look like a hick."

Luis shot her a dirty look but didn't respond. Sherry merely gave a too-sweet smile in return. Leon's gaze sharpened at the silent exchange, but he also chose to keep his mouth shut. He waited for the rest of S.T.A.R.S. to jump down from the top of the car, noting that Burnside was scowling in their direction. He wondered why, but didn't really care. If the kid had any brains at all he'd keep his own mouth shut.

"This is where I was sent to rescue Ashley Graham," Leon explained, turning to Chris. "We probably won't find any Umbrella B.O.W.s here, but there _will_ be monsters."

"Not to mention crazed, pitchfork-wielding, parasite-controlled villagers," Luis inserted dryly.

"Perfect," Chris sighed. He checked the Riot Gun and calmly reloaded. "Bullets will kill them, right?"

Leon nodded. "Aim for head until it gets dark."

"I don't like the sound of that," Carlos muttered.

"What happens after dark?" Billy asked in a too-quiet voice.

"The parasite's emerge from the host if you take a head shot," Leon said simply.

"Oh, come on!" Steve put his hands on his hips, his green eyes narrowed. "I did not sign up for _this_."

Sherry spun around with an angry expression. "Oh, man up, Burnside."

He opened his mouth to reply, then remembered that they weren't supposed to know each other. He closed his mouth without uttering a word, moving closer to Claire. Sherry just rolled her eyes, muttering, "Wimp," as she turned away.

Leon smothered a laugh, even as he pondered the exchange. Sherry was hostile to nearly everyone, but he still wondered. Considering that she blamed Claire for what had happened to them, she should have made the jump to Steve Burnside, just as he had. The fact that she hadn't seemed to bother him.

He'd ask her about it later. Right now, he just wanted to get through this part of the gauntlet. God, he was fucking tired, he thought wearily. He looked at the house on his left and snorted. There was no way he was going in there, again. He'd find another way into the village. Climb over the damned truck blocking the door or something.

Sherry approached him, her gun drawn, her azure eyes warm. "Where to, Dad?"

Leon smiled affectionately and pointed at the big truck. "Over the hill and through the woods."

She giggled at that. "It's better than the sewer I was expecting."

"Not much," Luis mumbled, crossing his arms.

"At least, there aren't any giant spiders here," Claire inserted dryly.

"Something to be thankful for," Leon agreed, his eyes warming on hers. He held her gaze for a moment longer before forcing himself to look away. He refocused on Chris, who was eyeing Burnside with open suspicion. "If we use the truck blocking the gate, we should be able to climb over the barricade. The path beyond it leads to the Pueblo, but it's full of bear traps. There were a couple of tripwires strung between the trees, too."

Chris nodded curtly. "You know the terrain here, so you're on point."

"Thanks," Leon said with obvious surprise. He waved them forward as he walked, looking back over his shoulder several times. First Jill had deferred to him, and now Chris. Just what did they see in him now that hadn't been there eight years ago?

He approached the truck and climbed onto the hood. He clambered to the roof and took careful steps to the big double doors with the Los Illuminados symbol carved into them. He backed up and took a running start, jumping and clinging to the top of the doors. He straddled them cautiously and looked down. He didn't see any of the traps in the immediate vicinity, though there were definitely some set up in the bushes a few feet away.

"Chris!" He beckoned the other man with a gesture, clinging to the gate when Chris's weight caused it to sway.

"Jesus!" Chris exclaimed. "This thing looked a lot sturdier from the ground!"

"Tell me about it," he commiserated. He heard the crunch of metal and Plexiglas and turned to find Sherry and Luis coming their way. "Give me your hands, honey."

Sherry shook her head, scattering her fine blond hair. "Help Luis first. He's still a little weak."

The Spaniard shot her fierce look even as he made a flamboyant gesture with one hand. "Ladies first," he said mockingly. "I insist."

She just rolled her eyes, placed her hand against his shoulder, and pushed him forward. "Get your ass in gear, Romeo. We don't have all day."

Luis scowled but let himself be pulled up the doors. "You might want to consider investing in a bar of soap, cop. Your daughter could use it."

Leon hid a smile as he and Chris lowered him partway. Luis landed on the ground lightly, though he did seem to stumble as he regained his balance. Sherry came next, smiling angelically, as though she hadn't just bullied a guy nearly twice her size. Leon shook his head and helped her over the barricade, still trying not to smile. If nothing else, Ada had taught his daughter how to use her backbone, and use it well.

"Start triggering the bear traps," he called down to her. "They're in the brush, and around the trees. And watch out for the tripwires!"

"We will."

Leon heard several shots as he helped the rest of the team over the doors. They were followed by the distinctive clink of the bear traps as they snapped closed. Chris dropped to the ground, landing evenly on the balls of his feet, and Leon waited until he moved aside to do the same.

Carlos was grinning as he approached the front of the group. "Check it out, _amigo."_

Luis and Sherry were standing a little ways away, arguing over who should shoot the tripwires. Leon sighed heavily, drew the Handcannon, and calmly shot at both. They exploded within seconds of each other, and swearing could be heard in both Spanish and English. Leon ignored them and aimed at the space between the trees. He triggered the concealed bear trap, lowered the gun, and started forward.

"Let's go," he said abruptly, taking the path as it curved up and slightly to the right. A man in ragged clothes and graying hair shouted something indecipherable and began to rush towards him.

Leon just shook his head, sighed, and took aim. He put a round in the guy's shoulder, which ripped the pitchfork he was carrying out of his hand. The man kept coming, his red eyes a visible sign of the parasite that lived within. Leon leveled the barrel of the Handcannon and pulled the trigger. The man dropped to the ground, and Leon hurried to where he lay stunned, and shot him twice more. He didn't get up.

"I thought they took a lot of ammo," Jill said a surprisingly dry voice.

"Yeah," Chris cut in. "That took what? Four bullets?"

He shrugged embarrassedly. "They'll get tougher soon enough."

"Younger, too," Claire teased, adding, "I hope."

Leon ran a hand through his hair as he blushed. "Yeah, there weren't too many of the old-timers last time. Most of the villagers seemed to be around our age."

He made his way to the little shack and stepped inside. At least, there wasn't a village woman pitchforked to the wall this time! He found a crossbow and a yellow herb. He pocketed the herb and stepped outside with the bowgun. He handed it to Claire with a nostalgic smile. "I think this is meant for you."

Claire returned his smile wryly. "Yeah, this would've come in handy back at Rockfort Island."

"I found these in the precinct," Billy said, taking the arrows out of his vest. "I'd wondered if we'd ever need them."

"Everything's been changed," Chris said with a baffled shake of his head. "Maybe Wesker really has gone senile."

"And just can't remember what goes where," Jill inserted with a laugh.

Rebecca smiled a little at that. "I was hoping he'd died of old age, personally."

Leon merely shook his head, knowing that it wasn't so. Wesker was just fucking with them, putting them through their paces. He fully expected the former Alpha Team leader to show up and challenge Chris. He didn't know how much he'd be able to help, but he'd do whatever he could to keep Claire's brother alive. He wouldn't allow her to lose him after all she had sacrificed for him.

He took lead once more, smiling at Claire as she moved to his side. He didn't know why he she was here, instead of at Burnside's side, and he didn't care. It was enough to be with her, even like this. He had missed her so damn badly the last eight years. He wondered if she had missed him, as well?

"Why didn't you go back to school?" he asked in a low voice.

Claire shrugged. "I couldn't deal with the real world after Raccoon," she answered. "S.T.A.R.S. is the only place I feel safe anymore."

Leon nodded sadly. "Yeah, the adjustment's a real bitch."

She looked up at him with somber blue eyes. "Why didn't you come back?" she asked, unable to stop herself. "I know you were mad at me for leaving, but why have you stayed away for so long?"

He looked away, an image of Ada shooting Claire flashing through his mind. "Claire. . ." his voice trailed off as he agonized over whether to tell her the truth or not.

"Didn't you think I'd want to see you, see Sherry?"

The pain in her voice was nearly his undoing. "You don't understand," he said hoarsely. "Claire, I-"

_"Intruso!"_

"Fuck!" Leon brought his gun up and took aim at a man in a stocking cap. The man threw a hatchet and he shot it out of air. Claire drew her Magnum and together they blasted the guy into oblivion. A second guy came out of another shack up ahead, they quickly dealt with him the same way.

Leon reloaded the Handcannon, and was surprised to notice that he'd used quite a few bullets. He wasn't running low yet, but he would soon enough, if he wasn't careful. "Chris, how are you guys doing on ammo?" he threw over his shoulder.

Chris questioned the others, and everyone was doing relatively well. "How about you?" he said, well aware that Leon had given nearly all of his guns and ammunition to them. "Are you running low?"

"Not yet." Leon rubbed the back of his neck as they crossed they came to another set of double doors. "This leads to the Pueblo. There were a hellava lot of villagers, and not many places to fight them. If you see a guy with a sack on his head and a chainsaw, concentrate on him. It took six or seven shots from my shotgun to take him down."

Carlos raised on black eyebrow. "A _chainsaw_?"

"Yeah."

"_Mierda."_ The Latino man shook his head and hitched the C.T. up on one hip. "Sounds like Nemesis to me."

Leon blinked. He hadn't made that comparison; he'd never run into the super-Tyrant. "Kind of reminded me of the Tyrant that chased Claire and I through the R.P.D. Except for the chainsaw, of course."

Claire shuddered at the reminder of Mr. X. "God, I hated that son of a bitch!"

"Me, too," Sherry inserted, surprising everyone as she smiled in Claire's direction. "I can't imagine anything scarier."

Steve snorted from his place in the back. They all turned to look at him, and he pasted a bored expression on his face. "Nothing could be scarier than what Ashford turned into."

Claire nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he was much scarier than Mr. X," she said. "At least, Mr. X didn't release a toxic gas could that couldn't be cured by the blue herb!"

Sherry's eyes narrowed before her expression closed. Leave it to Steve to ruin the first decent moment she'd had with Claire since being reunited with her. And damn Claire for letting him! she thought heatedly. The other woman couldn't really be this stupid, could she? How could she not see just how full of shit Steve Burnside really was?

She opened her mouth to say something cutting, and Leon stopped her with a stern look. She should have known, Sherry thought ruefully. Leon wasn't a stupid man. He might not know exactly what was going on, but he knew that Steve couldn't be trusted, even if he didn't know why. The next time they found themselves alone, she would tell him everything. Then, he would be able to warn S.T.A.R.S. of the danger having Steve in the group could bring them.

Leon let out a harsh breath as Sherry sent a little smile and closed her mouth. Whatever was going on with her and Burnside, it could wait until they'd reached safety. If there was a safe place to be had here, he thought with a silent, twisted laugh. The closest thing he'd found to a haven had been the cabin on the far side of the lake, and he'd had to fight a huge mutated fish to get there!

"We should go," he said curtly, not waiting for permission. He pushed the doors with the strange cult symbol open and stepped beyond them. Claire rushed to his side, and he smiled at her. She returned it, and they walked until the path branched to either side of a large tree.

Leon signaled the group to a halt and pulled his binoculars out of his jacket. He crouched by the tree and raised them to his eyes. There were several Los Ganados in the main area, muttering in Spanish as they went about their daily chores. Just like before, there was a body suspended above the fire. It was held in place by the large hook, which was attached to a sturdy wooden post. He zoomed in closer and his blood went cold.

"Oh, no," he whispered to himself, his heart sinking. He recognized the old man, and though he hadn't known him well, he had liked him. He lowered the binoculars, frantically trying to think of a way to break the news to S.T.A.R.S., while keeping them from rushing into the Pueblo and getting them all killed.

He straightened and handed the binoculars to Claire. She went to take them, and he held on. Her surprised gaze flew to his, widening at his grieved expression. "You can't freak out here," he told her, his voice hushed. "If you all go rushing in there, you'll be overwhelmed in seconds. Please, remember that."

He let go, his reluctance obvious, and Claire's gut tightened with dread. She looked through them, taking a minute to focus them, and gasped. Now, she what Leon had meant with that warning! Her hands shook slightly as she gave them back to him, her eyes swimming with tears. Oh God, Chris was going to freak! she thought as grief rushed through her.

"Get Jill," she whispered, her voice catching. "She'll know what to do."

Leon nodded and looked over his shoulder. "Jill?"

"Yes, Leon?"

"Can you come over here for a minute?"

She and Chris shared a surprised glance. "What is it?" her lover asked, frowning as the younger man just shook his head. She sent Chris a reassuring smile and went to the front of the group. "What's up?"

"We have a problem, here. It's bad, Jill." With that warning, Leon gave her the binoculars and waited for her reaction.

"No!" Her voice was hushed as she realized why he hadn't answered Chris. She lowered her head for a long, fighting the bitter sting of tears. Once she had control of them, she returned the binoculars and stood. "I'll take care of it. Claire, can you and Leon make sure. . .no one gets past you?"

"Yeah, we've got it, Jill."

Claire rose to her feet and moved to the center of the path. Leon stood beside her, fully prepared to use whatever means necessary to keep Chris from giving away their position. Claire couldn't know it, but his training had included in-depth martial arts training. He was perfectly capable of disabling the older man without doing permanent damage. He just hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

Sherry approached them, her fine features showing apprehension. "What did you see?" she asked quietly.

Leon inhaled sharply, wondering what her reaction would be. For the short time they'd been with Claire, she had come to look at the old man as an uncle. He didn't know if that feeling had held, but if it had, this was going to be devastating. "There's a man," he began hesitantly, not sure how to break it to her. "He's dead, but the villagers stuck him out in the open, probably as a warning. It's-"

He broke off as a shout sounded from a few feet away. "It's Barry," he said quickly, shoving her out of the way as Chris came barreling towards them. He barely heard her gasp as Chris tried to run passed him. He grabbed him and flipped him to his back, momentarily stunning him.

"Leon!"

He ignored Claire's shocked call as he straddled Chris' chest in an attempt to hold him down. "You can't do this," he hissed, keeping his voice low. "It's meant as a warning, and as a taunt. They're hoping that you'll have just this reaction. You're going to get us all killed if you go in like this!"

"Get off me, Leon." Chris looked deadly serious as he issued the verbal warning. "Do it now, and I won't beat the shit out of you."

Leon smiled with a mixture of sadness and humor. "You couldn't take me, Chris, no matter how hard you tried. So let's not do this, okay?"

When the other man merely narrowed his eyes, Leon sighed heavily and prepared for battle. He climbed off the other man and assumed a battle stance, wishing that it hadn't come to this. He hadn't wanted S.T.A.R.S. to see how deadly he had become. One of his biggest fears was that they would realize just how dangerous he and Sherry could be, and that they would reject Sherry because of it. If that happened, neither of them would survive this test.

Chris picked himself up with slow, exaggerated movements, giving the younger man time to change his mind. He watched Leon drop into a defensive position and nearly screamed with frustration. He wasn't going to get passed him without a fight, and he no longer wanted to take him apart.

"I can't leave Barry there," he made an abrupt gesture, his expression tormented, "like _that_."

"I understand how you feel, but we don't have choice," Leon told him with just a hint of frustration. "The minute we enter the Pueblo, we'll be attacked by thirty or forty villagers. It doesn't matter where we make our stand, we're going to be severely outnumbered. They won't have guns, but they'll have axes and chainsaws, and that's enough to make this fucking difficult."

Rebecca stepped forward, tears glistening on her cheeks. "Leon's right," she managed in a choked voice. "Once we've cleared the Pueblo, we can take him-"

She broke off on a sob, and Billy pulled her to him. He glanced at Chris over her head, his cobalt eyes sober. "Let's keep ourselves focused on getting out of this alive, Chris."

Chris hesitated, throwing an anguished glance at Jill. She took his hand in her own, sorrow marking her classic features. "I feel the same way," she told him heavily, "but we don't have a choice, unless we want to die with him."

"I'm not dying here," Carlos said suddenly, stepping forward. "If you want to kill me when get back to Montana, _amigo_, you can try. Otherwise, let's come up with a game plan that _won't_ get us slaughtered."

Steve just watched them, wondering who Barry was, and why they cared so damn much about him. He snuck a glance at Sherry and was stunned to see tears in her pale blue eyes. Whoever this guy had been, she'd known him before Wesker grabbed her, and he'd been important to her.

He inched closer to her, making sure he kept space between Kennedy and himself. He didn't want to tangle with Ada's favorite pet. She'd kill him if he hurt the other man, and she was one of the few people who could actually do it. "So, where's the best place to make our stand?" he asked, directing the query to the man in question.

Leon glanced at the young man he still wanted to punch and shrugged. "There's really no safe place in there. The one story house is too small for us all to fight in, and the two-story house has so many windows that we'd be hard-pressed to cover them all."

Luis frowned at that. "How'd you get out of it last time?"

"Somebody tripped the church bell, and they all just took off," he answered, shaking his head at the memory.

"I know where that is," Sherry said suddenly. Everyone turned to look at her and she took a step back. "I've studied all of Leon's case files. There were maps in all of them."

Leon laughed bitterly, knowing now what role Ada expected his daughter to play. "No," he stated flatly. "You're not going to the church. We'll figure another way out of this."

"Like what?" she threw out in challenge, her hands going to her hips. "These people are infected with Las Plagas. Short of wasting all of our ammo and getting ourselves killed, we're out of choices here."

"And if something happens to you?" he demanded, his fear turning to anger. "What the fuck am I supposed to do then?"

"Nothing's going to happen to me," Sherry told him, her voice soft. "I've studied this scenario, Leon. I know what to expect, and just where I have to go. Let me do this, Dad. Please, let me help."

He looked away, and she sighed. She pulled the SAWs light machine gun over her head and tossed it straight at Steve. "Burnside, you're up."

Steve caught the fully automatic weapon with slow grin. "Oh yeah, baby. A full auto." He aimed it at a tree, testing the weapon's weight, wishing that he could fire it now. "You talked me into it, Sher. Lead the way."

"Sher?" Claire questioned sharply, her gaze going back and forth between them.

"Uh, Claire-I. . ." Steve winced and shot a look at Sherry, who just shrugged. "You could help, you know."

She snorted as she reloaded the Broken Butterfly. "And what do I get out of it?" she questioned archly.

"My undying gratitude?" he said in a hopeful tone. She snorted again, and he relented. "Alright, alright. I'll owe you one. How's that?"

"Better." Sherry snapped the .45's chamber closed with a click. "Steve and I were kept in the same place, Claire. We've known each other for a while now."

Claire stared at Steve for a moment longer before whirling around to confront Leon. "Did you know about this?" she asked, praying that her suspicions were wrong.

Leon rubbed the back of his neck again. "No, but I'm not surprised." He sighed and met Sherry's gaze. "You could have told me, kid."

"I didn't trust them," she said, jerking her chin in the general direction of S.T.A.R.S..

He only nodded and pinned Steve beneath an icy glare. "Anything happens to her, and you die. Is that understood?"

Steve saw the rage in Kennedy's eyes and swallowed hard. "Yes," he said quickly, scowling as Sherry snickered.

"Come on, Steve. Time to earn your pay."

"Wait." Leon approached her and pulled her to him. "Be careful, honey."

Sherry hugged him back hard. "I will, Dad. You too," she whispered as she pulled away.

He smiled faintly and stepped back. "Wait for us at the church. We'll regroup there."

"Yes, Sir." She snapped a quick salute and took off running, Steve yelling her name as he sprinted after her.

Leon brought the Handcannon up. "We go in, take the two-story house, and guard the windows. Second building on the left, just beyond the fire. Got it?"

They heard the first shouts as Sherry and Steve were spotted. Leon took off at a run, aiming at the first villager he came across. The woman lifted a sickle and threw it at him. He dodged it and shot her in the head. She staggered and dropped to one knee. He shot her once more and she was done. Two men came at him, one with an ax, and one with a pitchfork. Leon rolled his eyes and shot out their kneecaps. They went down, and he finished them with head shots.

He rounded the fire, keeping eyes away from what had once been Barry Burton. He kicked open the door to the nearest house and whirled around, covering the others as they made their way inside. He followed Luis inside and slammed the door closed. Luis was already pushing a desk towards the door, and Leon took over. He blocked the door and ran up the stairs, knowing that the villagers would be using ladders as they attempted to gain entry.

"Cover the windows!" he yelled, striding to the western window and pushing the ladder he'd known would be there down. A man climbing the ladder screamed as he fell two stories with it. He saw that they were climbing on the lower section of the roof to the north and cursed fluently.

"I need help up here!" he shouted as he shot the first intruder. "Luis?"

"I'm coming!" Luis pounded up the stairs, breathing heavily, and wedged himself between the railing and the small bed. "I've got your back, _amigo_."

There were two windows on the north wall, and one on the south. He and Luis dodged projectiles as they guarded all three. Leon noticed the other man was leaning back against the wall, using it for support, and was concerned. He hoped Sherry and the brat got to the church soon, because Luis looked like he was going to pass out any minute now.

"You okay?" he threw out as he kicked the ladder down and shot the guy on the ground for good measure. "You don't look so hot, Luis."

_"Si,_ Leon." Luis threw him an exhausted smile and shot another villager attempting to climb inside. "I'm tired, but I'll live. Hopefully," he added as he shot two more intruders off the roof.

Leon smiled briefly. "You up to answering a few questions?" he asked as he shot another one. The man fell to the ground, his cry cut off in mid-scream.

Luis laughed shortly. "As long as you don't shoot me, I'll tell you anything you want to know."

He rolled his eyes. "What did Ada tell you about Claire to make you call her _Senora_?"

"Oh, that." The Spaniard shrugged his thin shoulders. "She said that the Redfield bitch-her words, not mine-was your wife."

"My wife?" Leon echoed, incredulity tingeing the words. His shoulders slumped for a moment before he was forced to push the ladder away from the window a third time.

"She really called her that?" he asked over his shoulder.

"_Si_, she did," Luis replied, pushing his hair out of his face. "She hates her, by the way. Said she'd have been dead years ago, if it weren't for you."

Leon shuddered and aimed at the bearded man trying to enter one of the north windows. "Fucking bitch," he muttered under his breath. "And to think, I mourned your death! Shit, I should've shot you in the R.P.D. parking lot eight years ago. I could have put a stop to all this before it started. But no, I believed you when you said you were there for John. I bought your act when you said you didn't want to lose me, that you cared for me. God, I was such an idiot!"

Luis listened to the other man rant with a wince. Yep, no doubt about it, Ada Wong was a dead woman. He didn't personally know the whole story. Ada hadn't seemed fit to confide in him. Hell, she hadn't even seemed to like him much. She'd just kept him around because she believed that his death had hurt Leon. Luis hadn't been kidding when he'd called her a crazy bitch!

Leon heard the church bells sound in the distance and nearly collapsed with relief. "It's over," he said, digging around in his attaché case for the last of his .50 caliber bullets.

"For now," Luis responded before stumbling to the bed. He sat down heavily, his body swaying with fatigue. "_Dios_, but I feel like shit!"

Reloading the Handcannon, Leon rose to his feet and headed for the stairs. "Wait there," he ordered before going below.

He found the rest of S.T.A.R.S. sitting around the stained dining table, Rebecca bandaging a wound on Claire's left arm. He rushed to her, crouching beside her chair. "God, you're hurt!" he exclaimed, reaching out to touch her. She jerked away, her expression angry, and his hand dropped to his side.

"I'm okay," Claire muttered, embarrassed that she had hesitated because her enemy was a woman. "It's just a damned scratch, as they say in the movies."

Leon glanced at Rebecca, who nodded in confirmation. Relief swept through him, dizzying in its intensity, and he gripped the back of the chair to steady himself. He didn't know what he would do if anything happened to Claire. . .

"Where's Sera?" Billy asked, frowning as his gaze went to the empty staircase.

"He's resting." Leon cursed at himself as he realized that he had forgotten why he'd come down here in the first place. He went behind the staircase and used his survival knife to open the two wooden barrels he'd known would be there. He found a red herb in one, and a green herb in the other.

"Thank God," he murmured as he grabbed them. He ignored S.T.A.R.S. and sprinted back up the stairs, taking both herbs to the bed. "I found these downstairs. They'll heal you completely, Luis."

Luis watched as he began to grind them and groaned. "I hope they taste better than the last ones," he exclaimed wearily.

"Not too likely." Leon mixed in the yellow herb he'd found earlier and handed it to the other man. "Here you go. You'll feel like a new man."

"I doubt that," the Spaniard muttered before stuffing the mixture into his mouth. He chewed them as quickly as he could, hating their bitter taste. Once he was done, he slumped back against the little metal headboard. "So, was the _ramera loca_ telling the truth, _amigo_? Is that little _colerica_ your wife?"

Leon looked away, taking refuge behind his bangs. "As far as I'm concerned, yes," he answered simply.

The sound of someone clearing their throat came to him, and his head jerked up. Chris stood at the top of the stairs, and Leon blanched as he realized just what Claire's older brother had heard. "Shit," he muttered, dropping his head into his hand.

Chris tried not to smile at the younger man's reaction. "Claire sent me to check on you and Sera," he informed them. "She's nervous, wondering when the villagers are going to come back. Frankly, so am I."

Luis forced himself to stand up. He didn't think the cop would leave him behind, but he wasn't taking any chances. "We'll make it out of here before they return. It will take them some time to pray," he explained, taking a cautious step forward. He glanced down at Leon with surprise. "I really do feel better, cop. You know what you're doing with the home remedy thing."

"Thanks," Leon said wryly as he rose to his feet. "We should take the time to search the outlying buildings for ammo before we go, though."

"I've already sent Billy and Carlos out," Chris informed him as they went downstairs. "Jill went with them. As soon as they return, we'll leave."

"Good," Leon said with relief.

He stood at one of the windows, unaccountably restless. He put his arm on the wall beside it, resting his forehead against it. A hundred different thoughts chased themselves around in his head. Sherry knew Steve Burnside, and apparently knew him well. They'd been kept in the same prison for eight years, and had hidden the fact from everyone. Steve had lied to Claire about not remembering the time between his death and their reunion. He had latched himself onto Claire like a long-lost lover, using her sympathy and whatever feelings she'd once had for him to keep her at his side.

He closed his eyes, shutting out the squalid surroundings. God, the interaction between the kid and his daughter enraged him because of what it intimated. Sherry was hostile to everyone, but she was very careful around Burnside. As with Leon himself, it almost seemed that Sherry took special care in what she said to the younger man. And as much as he hated even thinking it, Leon had to admit that there was a chance that his daughter was more than friends with Steve Burnside.

His hand clenched into a fist. "Goddammitt," he uttered in a whisper. He was trapped in a foreign country, being hunted down like a goddamn animal, with the very people he had worked so hard to protect. No matter what he choices he made, he always seemed to take the wrong path. He'd signed up with the R.P.D. because he'd wanted to protect people. He'd believed in right and wrong, black and white, good and evil.

Then, he'd arrived in Raccoon City for his first night on the job, and all of his beliefs had been blown to hell. He knew there was evil in the world. What he'd seen that night had proven its existence to him beyond a doubt. But the lines had become blurred, his judgment flawed. He'd trusted Ada Wong completely, doing his best to protect her, and she'd repaid him with betrayal.

He had mourned her death and what could have been, all the while falling madly in love with Claire Redfield. He had never been happier, even though they'd both suffered from flashbacks and night terrors. Sherry had made their family complete, not as an emotional bridge between them, but as a very welcome addition. Until the day that Claire had received Barry's message that Chris was in Europe, he had actually possessed hope for the future.

Then, Claire had packed a bag and left, and everything had fallen apart. He'd been working long hours as a security guard, trying to earn enough to join up with Claire. Sherry's nightmares had gotten worse, as had his own, and then the government had come for them. He'd had no choice but to go with them, for Sherry's sake. Or so he had believed at the time.

Maybe, he should have ran and gone after Sherry on his own. Of course, he could have found a way to fly to France and beg S.T.A.R.S. for their help. He had just been so damn scared, so unsure of what to do. It was his own fear that had worked against him. In the end, he had let himself be taken and molded by Jack Krauser. If only he'd been braver, more sure of himself, then maybe things would have turned out differently for them all.

Leon didn't know anymore. He was tired of second guessing himself. He had done the best that he could. He'd been thrown into a situation he truly hadn't believed he could escape. He had chosen to go into what he now knew was Wesker's project in an attempt to save Sherry. He _had _planned on finding her and rescuing her, but Ada had put a stop to that by her attempt on Claire's life.

It doesn't matter, he told himself firmly. The past was gone, and he was going to get himself killed if he didn't start focusing on the present. He was still uncertain what the future would bring for himself and the people he loved. At least, he was no longer scared of death. Whether he lived or died, he would find a way to keep the people he loved safe. It was all he was living for, and the one thing he wouldn't let Ada take from him. He _would _kill her, first.

And he needed to tell Chris just who they were up against. He turned his head slightly, smiling a little as he watched the Redfield siblings together. Their bond was as strong as was obvious. He envied them that, even as he admired it. It was something he had never experienced. The closest he had come was the paternal love he felt for Sherry, and even that had been slightly strained after eight years apart.

Chris caught his perusal and his head came up. "What's up?" he asked immediately, correctly interpreting the younger man's look.

Leon pushed away from the window and approached the table. "We need to talk," he stated, grabbing a chair and straddling it.

The older man nodded, his dark blue eyes narrowing slightly. "Confession time, Leon?"

"If that's what you want to call it." Leon crossed his arms over the back of the chair and rested his chin on them. "Sherry told me that Wesker is the man in charge of the prison she was in."

"Wesker?" Rebecca said with wide eyes.

"Oh, shit!" Luis mumbled at the mention of one of Interpol's most wanted criminals.

Chris inhaled sharply, echoing Claire's horrified gasp. "I thought it was the C.I.A. that recruited you?" he growled with the first signs of anger. "Or did you lie to me about that?"

"No, that's who they said they were. Their badges said the same thing." Leon sighed, his blue eyes dark. "Sherry says that the government got tired of hunting Wesker down. They made a deal with him. He's continuing Umbrella's bioweapons research for them."

"Son of a bitch." Chris banged a fist on the table and lurched to his feet. He took a few steps and spun around, his expression accusatory. "And you didn't know anything about this?"

Leon felt a surge of anger and carefully tucked it away. "No," he answered flatly. "I honestly believed that the government wanted Sherry to use her blood to make an anti-serum. I never dreamed that they would hand her over to Wesker. I would have risked everything to save her if I had known the truth."

The passionate words were delivered in a dispassionate voice, and the contrast made Chris uneasy. He glanced at his sister, who was staring at Leon as though she'd never seen him before. Leon was gazing straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular, seeming completely detached. Chris knew otherwise, but it was still disconcerting to see. So unlike the young man his sister had always described.

"Anything else I should know?" he asked at length.

Those empty blue eyes rolled up to his. "Wesker has to want you dead, Chris. Even I know that he hates you. I hear that he blames you for ruining his plans."

"Yeah, he does." Chris didn't question how Leon knew. For all that he had been a virtual prisoner for eight years, he'd sent them sensitive intel more than once. He'd obviously made contacts that Wesker either didn't know, or care, about. "And what about you, Leon? What is it that Wesker wants with you?"

Leon uttered an ugly, strangled laugh. "I think he used me to force Sherry's cooperation. What other reason could there be?"

Claire shivered and rubbed her arms, slanting a glance at her brother. Chris hadn't exploded as she'd expected him to upon hearing Wesker's name. He didn't even seem surprised, just pissed off. Whatever he and Leon had talked about back in Antarctica, it had prepared Chris for this.

"I think it's time you explained just what the hell is going on here," she said, nailing Leon with a withering glance.

His oh-so-blue eyes met hers, flashing once, then skittered away. "I never wanted any of you involved in this, Claire. I did everything I could to keep you out of it. If you believe nothing else, believe that."

The pain in his voice was nearly her undoing. She swallowed hard and forced herself to remain in her seat. Every cell in her body cried out that she go to him, comfort him, but she resisted the call. Leon had changed more than she would have ever believed possible. She didn't know him anymore. Worse, she didn't know if she _wanted_ to.

Leon continued to speak, telling them all that he knew, He left nothing out, except for his current mental state. Coen would tell them all eventually, and it had nothing to do with the current situation. He wished that he knew more, that he could explain just why Albert Wesker felt it necessary to do this, but he gave them what he could. He only hoped that it would be enough for Claire to forgive him.

She looked stunned by the time he had finished. She slumped back in her chair, one hand absently going to the bandage on her arm. "I can't believe that Wesker's had Sherry all this time," she murmured, her voice thick. "God only knows what he's done to her."

Leon got up and wandered to the window. He leaned back against the wall beside it, pulling the Handcannon from its holster in a habitual gesture. He turned it over in his hands, running his fingers over it, as he began to speak.

"I'd always hoped that because it was _our_ government, Sherry would be treated well. I knew that Ada occasionally worked with Wesker; I'd discovered that to be true during the Las Plagas incident two years ago. I just never believed that the government would deal with a man like him. Apparently, we do make deals with terrorists, so long as they're domestic ones, and they have something to offer us."

"It makes sense." They all turned to look at Luis, and he held his hands up before him in protest. "I just mean that no one's been able to catch the man, and he's believed to be responsible for several European outbreaks over the years. They probably believed that it was safer to have him on their payroll than running around free."

"Don't they know how dangerous he is?" Rebecca said, rubbing her right shoulder, where Wesker had shot her in the Spencer mansion lab. "He's really crazy."

"They probably don't care," Chris said angrily. "I wonder what's changed? Why did they let him loose now, when Umbrella's finally been destroyed?"

"I don't think Umbrella's gone," Leon told them quietly.

"You think they went underground?" Claire asked with horror.

He shrugged, thinking of the rumors he'd heard over the years. "I think that Umbrella's top scientists and board members are working for Wesker, now. There's rumors that they all bailed when Umbrella's stock crashed, that they went to work for another corporation."

"I've never been able to find any proof of it," he continued grimly. "But the rumors never stopped. And when I asked President Graham for permission to go after Wesker, and to find confirmation of the rumors, I was turned down cold. Now, I know why," he added with a touch of fury.

Cerulean eyes widened dramatically. "You tried to go after Wesker?" she squeaked incredulously.

"More than once." He straightened and wandered to another window, too restless to stand still. He kept his gun at his side, tapping it against his thigh. "I was told several times to concentrate on my duties, and to forget Albert Wesker."

"You're crazy, cop." Luis shook his head negatively. "Even I know that _Senor_ Wesker is too much for one man to handle."

Leon snorted at that. "I took out Krauser, and he wasn't exactly human."

"You're kidding?" Chris said with surprise. "_You_ took out Jack Krauser?"

"Two years ago," Leon confirmed. "He transformed in the middle of our second fight. To this day, I don't know if it was the Las Plagas, or one of the Umbrella virus' he was infected with. He was fucking crazy, but he wasn't being controlled by anyone. _He_ controlled his mutation. He could change at will."

Chris studied the younger man for a long, tense moment. "You weren't kidding when you said that I couldn't take you, were you?"

He shook his tawny head, turning to face them once again. "Jack took training me as a personal challenge, Chris. I was a Raccoon City survivor. He saw breaking me as the ultimate challenge, and he did everything he could to crush me. He hated the fact that he couldn't," he added with dark humor.

"Damn." Chris hesitated, hating that he had ask, but needing to know. "Leon, I need to know if you're still human."

Leon went completely still, stunned by the question. It was the last thing he had expected, and it fucking hurt. "Yes," he answered as evenly as he could, "I'm human."

"I'm sorry, but I had to ask."

He nodded and turned back to the window. He saw Jill, Carlos, and Billy coming towards the house with a profound sense of relief. He was done talking to S.T.A.R.S. about his past. He'd known that it would take time for them to trust him. He'd expected that. What he hadn't expected was to have his very humanity questioned. Now, he knew how Luis must have felt when he'd asked the very same question.

"Luis?" The Spaniard looked up, and Leon met his gaze squarely. _"Lo siento."_

Luis smiled faintly. "Forget about it, cop. I already have."

The front door opened, and the others came inside. Jill paused as she sensed the tension in the air. She shot a look at Chris, who shook his head negatively. Her gaze went to Leon, whose back was turned as he looked out a window. She sighed to herself and approached the table, Carlos on her heels, Billy heading straight to Rebecca.

"We found quite a bit of ammunition," she announced, and piled it all on the table.

_"Si,"_ Carlos chimed in, dumping the contents of an old potato sack. "There's even more herbs here, and another shotgun."

Billy straightened from where he'd been crouching beside Rebecca. "I found these," he said, reaching into his survival vest. "I think they're for you, Kennedy."

Leon turned, his gaze drawn to the gun parts in his hands. He strode to the table and took them, a genuine smile lighting up his youthful face. "Thank God!" he exclaimed, grabbing a chair and setting the parts on the table. "Now, I can upgrade the Killer 7!"

He opened the attaché case and quickly added the parts to his favorite gun. He looked down at the case's contents with a faint frown. "I don't suppose you guys found anymore .45 caliber bullets?"

Jill laughed quietly, grateful to see him acting normal. "Yes, we did," she said, handing him four boxes of thirty. "I thought you could use them, especially considering that you gave almost everything you had to us."

"Thanks," he said, ignoring her words as he reloaded the Killer 7. He took the TMP he had yet to use off and set it on the table. He took a second shoulder-holster out of the case and put it on, this time under his left arm. He put the Handcannon on the right side, and the Killer 7 on the left. The new holster was a little lower than the other, so that he could draw both easily when the time came.

He put all of his remaining .45 and .50 caliber bullets in his tactical vest, using the last bit of extra room he had. He strapped the TMP to not to his chest, but to his right thigh in an obviously custom-made holster. He closed the attaché case and put it away, his hand going automatically to the Killer 7.

"Feel better?" Billy asked drolly.

Leon nodded vigorously. "I didn't like having to put my favorite gun away. Now, I'll just have to remember to reload every fourteen shots."

"Damn, cop. You're loaded for bear, not Las Plagas!"

He laughed at that. "You sure you don't want another gun?" he asked, not offended in the least. "We've got a few semi-automatic handguns here, and the Matilda's a full auto. For backup," he added with a grin.

Luis just shook his head, drawing the Red 9. "No thanks, Leon. I wouldn't use them anyway."

Leon shrugged as he patted the Killer 7 and turned to Chris. "Now what?"

"You tell us." Chris gave the new shotgun to Rebecca, who took it with a sweet smile. "This is your territory, Leon. You and Luis. You know where we're going. You two take the front."

Luis and Leon traded a glance. The Spaniard looked surprised even as he shrugged. He rose to his feet, and approached the other man. "Guess we're the fodder," he muttered in a low voice.

Leon smothered a laugh, grateful that S.T.A.R.S. hadn't seemed to hear that. "We've got it, Chris. There's a farm a little ways past the exit. We'll head there next."

"Okay." Chris nodded and turned to the rest of team. "Make sure your guns are loaded before we leave."

There were several clicks as S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team checked their weapons. Claire offered her brother a horrible salute and clicked her heels. "Done, Captain," she said with a grin.

He shook his head, but he was smiling as he waved them all forward. "Jill and I will guard the back. Billy, I want you with us. Rebecca, you and Carlos get the middle."

"Gee, thanks, Chris," Carlos said, rolling his eyes. "Now, I'll have Coen breathing down my neck while I hit on his girl."

Billy narrowed his eyes a little as he took his place, even though he knew that the Latino man wasn't serious. "Do yourself a little favor there, Olivera. Don't hit on my girl. Then, I won't be forced to kill you."

Rebecca only rolled her green eyes at them both. "Men," was all she said, but it was enough to send the women into peals of laughter.

Leon smiled a little as he and Luis led them out into the Pueblo. The laughter stopped abruptly as they came to Barry Burton. Chris stepped looked around silently, needing to put out the fire to get him down. Leon spied some crates beside the one-story house and began to drag them towards the fire. Luis and Chris immediately rushed to help, neither willing to speak.

They dragged the crates to the fire and Leon jumped onto the crate before Chris could. "I've got it," he said in a quiet voice.

"No." Chris shot him a weak smile and climbed up beside him. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but Barry was one of mine. I'll take care of him."

Leon didn't answer, just stubbornly reached for the dead man they had all loved. Chris sighed and accepted his help, though he did so with mixed feelings. A part of him he wasn't too proud of blamed Leon for this, even though he knew that the other man wasn't responsible. It just seemed that every time Leon Kennedy made an appearance in the life of a Redfield, things just plain went to hell.

As they pulled the big man down and laid him gently on the ground, Chris could barely refrain himself from attacking the younger man. After hearing Leon's story earlier, he'd planned on offering him a spot on the new team he'd been thinking of forming. Now, he wasn't so sure that was a good idea. Death followed in Leon Kennedy's wake, and Chris didn't know if he was willing to take a chance that it would continue, once they returned to Montana.

They searched the village for shovels and laid Barry to rest back on the path, where the forks met, under the big tree there. Chris, Jill, and Rebecca all said a few words over the grave. Leon remained silent, his shoved into his jacket pockets as he fought the bitter sting of tears. He reminded himself that Wesker had hated Barry, and that he couldn't have stopped this. It didn't help, or change the fact that a man he'd admired was dead.

Chris obviously blamed him. It wasn't anything he said, because he hadn't spoken to Leon since they'd pulled him down. It was in his eyes though, that look of recrimination that he couldn't hide, and Leon couldn't help but notice. Any deep-seated hope he might have held that there would be a place for him with S.T.A.R.S. was gone. Even if he and Sherry survived this, he would still be alone. She would have Alpha Team, and he would take his revenge.

Once the decision had been made, Leon felt better. Maybe, going after Wesker and Ada wasn't the smartest decision to make, but it was the right one. He would make sure that Claire and her brother could live the rest of their lives in safety. His would end with Albert Wesker's.

"We should go," he said into the quiet, turning away as Chris threw another glare his way.

Luis joined him silently, and they reentered the Pueblo. Leon checked the doors that led to the underground tunnel and found them locked. He grunted and led them towards the northeast exit, towards the farm. They went through the double doors, Leon just sighed. This time, he was killing every damn chicken and cow that he came across. They'd given his position away numerous times in Spain, and he was still pissed about it.

They found nothing but dead bodies in the farmhouses. Sherry and Steve had cleaned house, clearing a path of relative safety for them. Leon smiled faintly, proud despite himself. No matter what life threw at Sherry Birkin, she would survive. If Ada had done nothing else, she had assured that his daughter would always be able to protect herself. Before he finally took her life, he would thank for it.

They cleared the farm, again taking the northeast exit. Leon came to a red signpost with skulls attached to it and kicked at the grass. "This means that there are traps ups ahead. If this one's the same as it was before, it'll only work once. Let me run ahead and trigger it before you guys go down there."

Chris hesitated, knowing that he couldn't ignore the younger man forever. "That's quite a sacrifice, Leon. Are you sure about this?"

Leon simply sighed at the venom in his voice. "Yeah, I've got this one, Chris."

"Fine," Chris said shortly. "Be careful, then."

Leon nodded once before going down the earthen stairs. He heard the shouts from above and began to run. He heard the crash behind him, felt the vibrations from the giant boulder as it bore down on him, and increased his speed. He spied a slight niche where the railing bordering the path was missing and aimed for it. He threw himself to the right, rolling to avoid being crushed by a thousand pounds of granite.

It barreled past him and rolled right off of path where it turned to the left. Leon stood and brushed the dirt from his pants. As nightmares went, this one was pretty fucking tame. He wondered what would happen when Ada—and Wesker—realized it.

He heard his name being called and looked back to find Claire and S.T.A.R.S. running towards him. He began to smile to show he was okay when Claire threw herself at him. He caught her quickly, stumbling a little, his arms going around her. She clung to him and he held her, burying his face in her neck. He inhaled that scent was unique to Claire Redfield and his senses swam.

"I'm okay," he muttered, his arms tightening around her. Her only response was to burrow closer, and he didn't protest. He simply closed his eyes and savored the moment, barely able to believe that it was _Claire's_ body that trembled so violently against him his own.

Claire clung to him with all of her strength, still shaken by what she had seen. "Don't you do dare do anything like that, again," she told him unevenly. "You took ten years off my life, Leon."

"I'm sorry," he told her sincerely, his voice husky. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know you didn't." She drew a deep breath and forced herself to release him. She looked into his eyes and was stunned by the emotions shimmering in their clear blue depths. She raised a hand to his face, her gaze searching his intently. "Leon, I-"

"Claire!" Chris called sharply. "He's fine. Let's go."

Claire watched those emotions disappear with shock. Leon looked much as he had when they'd first found him outside of the Ashford Estate. His angelic features were hard, his too-blue eyes startlingly empty. He stepped back, turning away as though the embrace had never happened, and her heart broke all over again.

"Yeah," she echoed, her voice laced with anger, "he's fine. Let's go."

Leon headed towards the doors at the end of the path, and Luis had to jog to keep up with him. "You okay, _amigo_?" he asked a little breathlessly.

"Yeah." Leon paused with hand on each door. "Do you blame me for this, too?"

"Hell no!" Luis said with a scowl. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be alive right now."

"Are you sure that's such a good thing?" Leon asked with forced humor.

The Spaniard shrugged and helped him open the doors. "Everyone deserves a second chance, Leon. Why not us?" he said as he stepped through.

Leon followed him but didn't answer. He looked at his surroundings with only mild surprise. "Apparently, Wesker decided to skip a few parts of the village," he commented.

_"Si_, I guess he got lazy," Luis said with a laugh.

Leon eyed the narrow passage that led to where he'd fought El Gigante with a shake of his head. At the end of the open passage was a large circular area, surrounded by a high wooden fence. He heard S.T.A.R.S. behind him and turned to warn them. He heard Sherry's voice calling his name and whirled around. She and Steve were running into the arena, waving and smiling.

"No!" he screamed as fear surged through him. "Go back!"

Leon ran towards the wooden gate but it was too late. It had lowered on either side, trapping the two young people inside. Leon grabbed ahold of the wooden slats and shook them as hard as he could. Two large double doors on the left side of the arena burst open, and the gigantic mutation stepped through. The ground shook at its steps, and Leon's heart threatened to jump out of his chest.

"Stay away from it!" he yelled as loud as he could. "Shoot it from a distance! If it grabs its head and drops to its knees, shoot the parasite on its back!"

Sherry scrambled back as the giant took another step forward, roaring like a wounded lion. She brought the Broken Butterfly up before her, trying to steady her hands as fear caused them to tremble. She looked at Steve, whose emerald eyes were wide as he lifted his own weapon. They both heard Leon's shouted warning and shared a frightened glance. They were out of their element, and they knew it.

"Steve, you have to-"

"No!" His terrified voice cut through her words. "I can't! Then, they'll all know!"

She took several shots, Steve joining her with the machine gun. The creature clutched its head and fell to one knee. The parasite burst from the spot between its shoulder blades, and they blasted until it retracted. It took a big step towards them, the ground shaking, and Steve grabbed her hand.

"Come on!" he panted, pulling her away. He dragged her to the opposite side of the pen, bringing the machine gun up as he whirled around. The gun clicked dry and he threw it to the ground with a curse. He fumbled with the .45 Leon had given him, bringing it up as Sherry fired at his side. Two shots and it also clicked empty.

"Oh, fuck!" he yelled, shoving it back in the pack at his waist. "I'm out of ammo, Sher!"

"Me, too." Sherry raised scared blue eyes to his own, her expression pleading. "Steve, you have to transform. We're going to die if you don't."

The giant stomped towards them and they moved around it as fast as they could. "If I transform, I might not be able to make it back." He looked at her as somberly as he could while they backed away from the El Gigante in terror. "You're out of ammo, Sher. What happens if-"

"Don't say it!" Sherry grasped his hand in a tight grip. "I'll talk you down, Steve. You know I can do it."

"You did it once, Sherry!" The creature roared again, louder than before, and his face lost all color. "Okay, you win. But you've got to promise me that you won't let me kill you?"

"I promise, Steve." They dodged the beast as its fist came down where they had been standing. They ran back to the far side of the enclosure, her father's screams reaching them despite the noise the giant was making.

Sherry reached for him, pulling him close. "Be careful, Steve."

"I will, Sher."

Steve hugged her tightly then shoved her away. He ran to the other side of the pen, throwing rocks to get the monster's attention. It turned towards him, and he funneled his sheer horror into something more constructive. He let eight years of suppressed anger at his father, Umbrella, and Claire Redfield come to the surface. He welcomed the rage, letting it bury the pain, and overtake his human senses.

Sherry watched with a combination of awe and horror as Steve's DNA began to rewrite itself. She'd only seen him like this once, when he'd been pushed to the breaking pointing during combat training. Steve Burnside would never be a warrior, but with power like his, he didn't need to be.

The TV-HMC-29 virus began to slither just under Steve's skin, almost as though another being crawled just beneath it. Muscles formed where they shouldn't, his bones stretching, elongating. His Tyrant form was at least eight feet tall, his skin turning a sickly shade of grayish-purple. His hands formed large claws, his eyes flashing between their normal emerald green, and a frightening blood red.

The El Gigante paused for a few moments, seemingly confused by Steve's transmutation. Steve roared, the sound louder than any the giant had managed to produce, and El Gigante took a step back. Steve swiped at it with one razor-sharp claw and the bigger creature made a choked sound as blood rushed from its chest. It dropped to its knees, the parasite emerging, and Steve slashed at it. The parasite flew through the air, severed from its host, and hit the wooden enclosure with a sickening thud.

The Tyrant raised his hands in the air and roared with triumph. As he lowered them, his reptilian eyes landed on Sherry. She swallowed hard but stood her ground, knowing that if she could just diffuse Steve's rage, everything would be all right. She smiled at him, lifting her own arms in welcome, and took a step forward.

"It's okay, Steve," she told him, her voice as soothing as she could make it. "It's me, Sherry. I'm here for you, Steve. Just like always."

The Tyrant paused and looked down at her, its massive head tilting to one side. Sherry brightened her smile, making it as welcoming as possible, and took another step towards him. "Come back, Steve," she cajoled in her sweetest tone. "Come back to me, baby. Don't leave me alone like this."

He took a step forward, his mutated face showing confusion. "Sher?"

Sherry blinked back tears as she recognized the man she knew in that too-deep voice. "Yeah, it's me, baby."

He began to power down, the transformation reversing itself. In a matter of moments, it was Steve standing before her, his green eyes filling with tears as he rushed towards her. He swept her up against him, holding her as tight as he could. He dropped to his knees, his tears wetting her neck, his sobs harsh in her ear.

Sherry held him close, whispering comforting nonsense, as she heard the gates opening. She held Steve tighter, shooting a narrowed-eyed glance at Leon as he came rushing towards them. He came to an abrupt stop, his bleak gaze sweeping over them. His lips tightened with displeasure before he gave her an abrupt nod.

Leon watched angrily as Burnside cried his heart out on Sherry's shoulder. As she glared at him, he realized that his daughter had known that Steve was a Tyrant, and had chosen not to say anything. He nodded at her, his jaw locked, and turned back to S.T.A.R.S. The horror and disgust on their faces said it all. It was time for him to make the choice he had avoided for eight years. This time, he would choose his daughter over the woman who held his heart.

"I think it's time we went our separate ways," Leon announced quietly. He waited in vain for someone—anyone—to respond. When his words were greeted only with silence, he had his answer. He looked at Luis and said, "You can stay with us, or you can go with S.T.A.R.S. The decision is yours."

Luis shook his head slowly, still looking a bit shell-shocked. "There's no choice to make, cop. I'm with you."

"You'll have a better chance of getting out of this alive with them," Leon felt compelled to point out.

He snorted at that. "I've got you and Super-Tyrant over there on my side," he said in an attempt at humor. "I'll take my chances with you, Leon."

"Alright, then." Leon clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, then turned to face Chris. He extended his hand, his face carefully blank. "I'm sorry about all of this, Chris."

Chris just looked at his hand, unable to reach out and take it. "So am I, Leon."

He let hand drop and managed a crooked smile. "See you on the other side," he said before turning away.

"Will we?"

It was Coen's voice, Leon realized with surprised. He half-turned and shrugged helplessly. "Take care of yourself, Billy. It was nice to finally meet you."

"You too," the other man replied, surprising Leon with his sincerity.

Leon nodded and walked away from them, towards the strange family unit he was now the head of. Burnside was still huddled on the ground, using the remnants of his shirt to clean his face. His chest was bare, his pants shredded half-way down his thighs. His shoes were nowhere to be found, and Leon doubted they would fit anymore even they were there. The kid was practically naked, and he couldn't be left that way.

Leon took the binoculars out of his jacket, slipped them crosswise over his head, and took it off. He held it out to Steve, who looked up with surprise. The kid reached out and took it hesitantly, slanting a confused look at Sherry. She smiled at him and helped him pull it on, making a comment on how handsome he looked in it.

Leon barely refrained from rolling his eyes as he crouched beside them. He laid the attaché case on the ground and began to go through it. Not much remained, and his heart sunk. For the first time, he was worried that he wouldn't be able to get Sherry out of this. At least, he still had the semi-automatic rifle with the two scopes. That would probably come in handy soon enough. And the crappy, one-shot rocket launcher, he reminded himself caustically.

"We're going on alone," he told them quietly. "I can give you each a box of ammunition, but that's it. Once they're gone, there's nothing else. From now on, we check each villager we kill, every shack and woodpile we pass. Aim only for the head and make each shot count. Are we clear?"

Sherry and Steve traded a miserable glance and both nodded. Leon saw the look and sighed. "None of this is your fault. Neither of you are responsible for this," he said emphatically. "This is Wesker's show. He put us all here. Remember that."

Luis' pale blue eyes shifted behind him, and he nodded. "We've got company, _amigo_."

Leon stiffened and slowly turned around. Billy and Rebecca came to a halt a few feet away, and he rose to his feet, his expression wary. "These are for you," Billy told him, handing him the Striker and the Riot Gun.

He took the weapons with obvious reluctance. "What about you guys?" he asked, unable to mask his concern.

"We'll survive," Rebecca assured him, her voice soft. "You can't if your team isn't properly armed."

"Becca-"

"Don't argue with her, Kennedy," Billy cut in, tossing several boxes of ammunition on the ground. "Just take them, and keep your ass alive."

Leon nodded slowly and turned to give the guns to Steve and Sherry. He turned back, his expression showing his gratitude. "Thank you both."

Rebecca blinked back tears and stepped forward to throw her arms around him in a hug. Leon's surprised gaze flew to Billy, who merely flashed him a rare smile. He hugged the petite woman back, grateful that she didn't seem to blame him as some of her compatriots had.

"I always liked you, Leon. Please, don't take any chances with your life."

"I'll try not to, Becca." Leon cleared his throat uncomfortably as she released him. "You be careful, too."

"I will," she assured him sweetly.

Billy stepped forward and extended his hand, his smile deepening when Leon shook it. "Not all of us are as hard-headed as Redfield. When you get back to the real world, give us a call. Let us know you made it. Okay?" he added.

"Okay." Leon stepped back and watched as they walked back to the rest of S.T.A.R.S. He sighed heavily and turned back to his own team. "Load up. We're getting the hell out of here."

He let Steve and Sherry divvy up the shotgun shells as he put the attaché case away. He eyed Burnside's bare feet with concern. They were going to have find him some shoes. Hopefully, a soon-to-be-dead villager would be his size. If not, they'd have to find something to wrap them in. An infection might not be able to kill him, but it could make it damned uncomfortable for the kid to walk.

Steve stood, clutching the Riot Gun in one hand, the other tangled with Sherry's. "Thank you," he said in a voice that shook, "for not seeing me as a monster."

Leon managed a little half-smile. "If you were a monster, my daughter wouldn't love you."

Sherry blushed hotly, peeking at Steve from under her lashes. He grinned at her, unable to help himself, and tugged her closer. She hid her face in the jacket's fur collar, and he kissed the top of her head, hugging her to him.

Leon shook his head and palmed the Killer 7. He looked at Luis with a tight smile. "Are you ready?" The Red 9 came up, and he had his answer. "Let's go, then."

He led them to the north side of the enclosure and through the now-open gate. He heard Claire call his name and hesitated, his free hand clenching into a fist at his side. "Shit," he muttered as he turned around. She was standing close to the dead El Gigante, a look of stark pain on her beautiful features.

"Stay here," he threw over his shoulder, jogging back to meet her.

Claire threw her arms around his neck even as he caught her to him. "I don't want you to go," she told him in a choked voice.

"I know, honey." Leon held her as tight as he could without hurting her. "I'm so sorry, Claire. I wish I could've been the man you wanted me to be."

"Don't say that," she begged, pulling back just enough to look up at him. "There's nothing wrong with the man that you are, Leon. If you'd been any different, I wouldn't have fallen in love with you."

Leon shut his eyes at the pain her lie caused. "Thank you, for that," he told her hoarsely. Her gaze moved over his shoulder, and he smiled grimly, knowing that it was Burnside that she was looking at. "I'll take care of him, Claire. I won't let anything happen to him."

Claire searched his gaze intently, something in the tone of his voice bothering her. "Just take care of yourself and our daughter, Leon."

Gratitude swept through him at her words. He stepped back, cradling her face in the palm of his hand, letting her see all that he felt for her. "I've always loved you, Claire. Please, remember that."

He tore himself away and strode back to the others, ignoring her call to stop. He went straight to the double doors that waited outside of the arena and resolutely pushed them open. A wave of intense heat assaulted them as they stepped through, and the doors banged shut behind them. Leon stopped dead in his tracks, shocked by what he saw before him. He had no idea where the hell they were, and he was willing to bet that S.T.A.R.S. wouldn't either. Wesker hadn't just plunged them into their worst nightmares. He'd created a new one just for them!


	5. The Unknown

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters in the work below. If I did, RE4 would have had zombies instead of bugs!

**Synopsis:** T-virus, G-virus, T-Veronica virus, Las Plagas. . .you get the drift.

**Author's Note: **This chapter was taken from the original trailers for RE5, the ones that looked like Chris might end up in a more urban setting. Now, on with the show! =)

* * *

**Chapter Five:** The Unknown

Sand spread out before them, an ocean of molten gold, and scant shelter in sight. Leon spared a glance at the others in his party, and they each looked as confused as he felt. He had no idea where they were, and it didn't bode well for the success of their survival. There were lean-to's scattered here and there, and what looked like it might be a well in the distance. Other than that, there wasn't shit.

"Perfect," he muttered under his breath. The ground rose up in a slope before them, more than likely a sand dune. He thought again of Steve's bare feet and knew that he had to find them some shelter quickly. He'd figure out what to do next once he did.

He checked the doors they'd come through, and found them locked, just as he'd expected. S.T.A.R.S. would have to go to the underground dock where he'd once met the merchant, and take the boat to another entrance. At least, that's what Leon was hoping. Suddenly, he was questioning his decision to separate from Alpha Team. What if they ended up in a totally different place? What if, this scenario was only for them?

Leon pushed his doubts away resolutely. He wouldn't get anywhere second guessing himself. He knew better, and they had other things to worry about right now. Like getting his daughter, her mutant boyfriend, and a dead Spaniard to safety.

"Head to the first shack," he told them abruptly, using the Killer 7 to point at the first lean-to. "It looks like there might be something in there. Maybe, we can find something for your feet, Steve."

Steve nodded vigorously. The soles of his feet were already starting to hurt, and he'd take whatever he could get to cover them. "Lead the way, Sir."

Leon slid him a wry glance. "It's Leon," he said as he started forward. "Just don't call me Dad, and we'll get along fine."

He heard Sherry giggle behind him and smiled to himself. He had serious doubts about Steve Burnside, but he wouldn't voice them because of his daughter. Whatever their relationship was, Sherry cared about Steve, and that was enough to make Leon accept him. If he turned on them, he would deal with it. Until then, the kid was family.

Luis was looking around with a pissed expression. "And I thought Spain was bad," he mumbled angrily. "At least, it wasn't a fucking desert!"

"I feel you," Steve said as he passed them. He went into the nearest lean-to and sat down, dusting off his already reddened feet. "Why couldn't it have been Hawaii? Girls in bikinis, drinks with little umbrellas in them, a beach with sparkling water, air-conditioning. . ."

His voice trailed off as Sherry plopped down beside him. "If we run across any girls in bikinis, and they're not zombies, you're a dead man," she told him flatly.

Steve just grinned at her, loving that she cared enough to be jealous of _him._ "Come on, beautiful. You know that you're the only girl for me."

"I'd better be," she told him, tossing her golden hair in a universal gesture of feminine ire.

"You are," he told her, momentarily serious. "I know that I'll never find anyone who accepts me the way that you do. I'll do better, Sher. I promise."

"Of course," he added slyly, "if we _do_ run across any half-naked female zombies, I reserve the right to check them out before I kill them."

"Asshole." She smacked his shoulder lightly, unable to contain a smile. Damn it, she was never able to stay mad him. "You're going to be a hen-pecked boyfriend once we get out of this, Burnside."

He scowled at that. "Ah, come on, Sher-"

"Don't even, Steve. You're stuck with me _and _my gun-toting father."

Leon laughed as he searched through a pile of seemingly discarded clothes. There were no shoes, but he did find a pair of old socks, and some kind of baggy, wide-armed shirt. "Here you go, kid. It's all I could find."

"They'll work," Steve said with relief. He made sure his feet were free of sand before pulling them on. He grimaced as he pulled the smelly shirt over his head, but he kept his mouth shut. It might not be real clothes, and they'd definitely make him smell funny, but he'd take what he could get at this point. He certainly hadn't expected the guy that Sherry considered her father to accept him once he'd seen him in his other form. That he was willing to showed just what a good guy he was. Sherry had been right. Leon Kennedy was a man you count on, no matter what.

Luis found a spot in the shade and kicked back with a sigh. He knew why Leon had accepted the kid. He even understood it. He wasn't sure if he was willing to stake his life on it, but for the cop, he'd try. Leon had done everything he could to save his life two years ago, and to stop Saddler and his insane cult from holding the world hostage.

That was why he'd stuck with him instead of going with S.T.A.R.S.. Leon might believe that he was better off with them, but he knew better. Those self-righteous soldiers would've just gotten him killed. At least, he knew that he could trust Leon to try and keep them all alive. The fact that he hadn't shot Burnside outright showed that.

Leon found an old, battered canteen and tossed it to Luis. "Hold on to that," he told the other man. "I'm out of room."

"I've got it, cop." Luis used the thin leather strap to tie the canteen to his belt. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Leon said rather grimly. "Check this out."

Luis took what appeared to be a newspaper from him. At least, he thought it was a newspaper. It was hard to tell when it was written in a language you didn't know. "Great," he said, passing it to Steve on his right.

Steve frowned at it as he showed it to Sherry. "What language is this?" he asked with confusion.

"Hell if I know," Leon said with a sigh. "But look at the picture on the other side."

The picture was small and slightly out of focus, but they all recognized the creatures overwhelming a group of foreign policemen. Zombies in various states of decomposition, each engaged in the act of feeding on the unfortunate humans. Assault rifles lay on the ground at their feet, half buried in what appeared to be sand. The streets were narrow, the canopied building little more than debilitated shacks. What looked tables were overturned beneath those canopies, suggesting that this might have been a market place before the attack.

Steve swallowed hard and handed the picture back to him. "We're in an awful lot of trouble, aren't we?"

"No more than usual," Leon lied as he concentrated on folding the paper and putting it away. When he lifted his head, his expression was as normal as he could make it. Steve tried to give him his jacket back, and Leon shook his head. "I know it's hot, but since you lost your waist pack, you're going to need the pockets."

"True." Steve put it back on, grimacing at the heat that engulfed him. "Sher, you still got those .9 mils on you?"

"Yeah, but no ammo," Sherry said, opening Claire's biker vest to get to her tactical vest. "Which one did you want?"

"How about the enhanced one?" he asked, his expression eager. "It's almost an automatic."

She laughed and pulled out the enhanced Beretta. "It's called a semi-automatic Beretta, moron."

"It's called backup, too-blond-to-be-smart." He ducked the hand aimed at his head as he put the Beretta in the jacket. "Missed me. Ow!"

"Serves you right, Burnside. Watch the mouth."

_"Dios,"_ Luis muttered, adding, "Just call me Uncle Luis."

Sherry shot him a knowing look but didn't comment. Leon ignored it. He knew that Luis was fully aware of Sherry as a woman, but the other man had heeded his warning, and kept his interest hidden. Unless something happened to Steve, nothing was going to happen with his daughter. Maybe, not even then. Sherry was certainly crazy about the brat.

"After seeing that picture, I don't think we should spend too long in one place," Leon said. "We'll search all the buildings that we come across, and we'll fill the canteen if the water's clean. I'll take the front. Sherry, I want you at the back. Let's hope we find some more ammo, and a way out of here."

Luis rose to his feet, wishing that he had something to tie his hair back with. Hell, if he had a pair of scissors, he chop it all off. After two years of rolling over on it, he was more than ready to be rid of it. He palmed the Red 9 and stepped back into the blazing sun, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the difference in light. Right there, he made the decision to live someplace cold, providing that he got out of this alive. No deserts, no more trips to his homeland, and certainly no giant poisonous plants!

Leon led them to the next lean-to, stifling a curse as the sand made it difficult to keep their footing. They found another canteen, this one even more battered than the first, and Sherry and Steve decided to share it after yet another argument. They didn't find any ammunition, and Leon was worried. He had the rocket launcher, but S.T.A.R.S. had kept the linear launcher, which held several rockets. His only held one, and if they ran into anything bigger than a Tyrant or Regenerator here, they were pretty much screwed.

He did have his sniper rifle, but he was praying that he wouldn't have to use it. Its ammo was almost as hard to find as the Handcannon's, and he wasn't as good a shot as Chris was. He was good, but not that good.

He'd be satisfied with some .9 millimeter ammo for Steve, at this point. The Riot Gun held a hellava lot of ammo, but eventually, even it would run dry. This was their fourth scenario—fifth if you counted Antarctica—and they'd found maybe a dozen boxes of ammo. And four chess-piece-shaped plugs he still hadn't been able to use.

Leon frowned at the reminder. He didn't like that Wesker had changed things so completely. He should have had to use the plugs back at the R.P.D. He thought briefly of throwing them away, but discarded the notion. If he got rid of them, he'd only regret it later. He was sure he'd need them for something, eventually. It always seemed to work that way, and with the entrances locking behind them, there was no way to go back. Besides, he _really _hated backtracking.

Come to think of it, he still had the crank that he'd found back at the station too. Shit, he could really use the space, too! But, he had no intention of coming back here unless it was absolutely necessary. He'd never been overly fond of sand.

Leon halted them at the last lean-to and found a large wooden trunk. He started laughing even as he reached to open it. "At least, there's no typewriter this time," he told himself humorously.

Inside, he found yet another note, the flowing feminine script he'd come to hate scrawled across the single page. He sighed and held on to it as he spied something shining beneath it. Not just one, but two dozen boxes of varying ammunition, along with several rockets for the rocket launcher.

"Jackpot, guys." Leon began to pull it all out, setting box after box on the ground. "Everybody reload what you can. We'll divvy up what's left when you're done."

"Thank God," Steve said as he spied four boxes of .9 millimeter bullets. He reloaded the enhanced Beretta and shoved it in the waistband of his pants. "Here, Sher. Those are for you."

Sherry reloaded the Broken Butterfly, her own expression showing relief. She shoved as many shotgun shells as she could into the Striker, then her vest. She bullied Steve into doing the same, even though he claimed that he wasn't a shotgun type of guy.

Luis reloaded the Red 9, and then stuffed all of the magazines that would fit into his black vest. "What do you want me to do with the extras?" he asked.

"Put them in here." Leon opened the attaché case and put the magazines inside. As he rearranged what was left of his arsenal to fit the rockets inside, he discovered that he actually _wanted_ to read Ada's note, if only to discover why she had helped them like this. He realized that he didn't have room for the can of first aid spray he always kept handy, and sighed heavily.

"Does anyone have room for this?" he asked, holding the can up.

"I do," Steve said. "This coat's hot as hell, but it's got deep pockets."

"That will work." Leon handed him the first aid spray and closed the attaché case with a quiet click. He put it away and glanced at the ammo still lying on the ground. It wasn't much, but they were going to need it. He found some .50 caliber bullets and put them all in the Handcannon. It still wasn't fully loaded, but now it was close. He added took the last of the .45 caliber bullets and passed them around between the four of them. Now, they all had bullets, even if Steve didn't have his .45 anymore.

"We'll go in a minute," he told them, walking a few feet away before opening Ada's note.

_Leon,_

_I'm glad you made it this far, handsome. Use the ammo, and the well. The water's clean. As for where you are, all I can tell you is that you're getting a glimpse of the future. It won't be easy, and it's certainly not pretty, but I have faith in you. There's one more waiting for you. He's not a survivor in the sense that we are, but you'll need him if you want to get out of this alive. Beware of things that go bump in the light, Leon. There are worse monsters than you and I in the desert. _

_Good luck, lover._

_XOXOXO_

Leon glared at the note before crushing it in his hand and throwing it to the ground. He was not a monster, damn her! He squeezed his eyes shut and fought to restrain his temper. He had done the best he could with what little she had given him. She had no right to compare the two of them. He was _nothing _like Ada Wong!

"Dad?" He turned to find Sherry looking at him with concern, the note in her hand. "What does she mean by this?"

"I don't know, honey." Leon ran a hand through his hair before letting it drop to his side. "She's just screwing with me, again. It seems to be her favorite pastime," he added bitterly.

Sherry looked down at the note, hating the resentment she heard his deep voice. "Didn't she ever tell you why Wesker wanted you?"

"No." Leon turned around slowly, his crystal-like eyes trained on hers. "Do you know, Sherry?"

She nodded, unable to hide the surprise from her expression. "I thought she'd told you, Leon."

He shook his head negatively, doing his best to remain calm. "She has never told me why my cooperation was so important," he managed in an even tone. "I've always wondered, though."

Sherry's gaze fell from his as she realized just how badly Ada had handled this. "You're like me," she said finally, raising her gaze once more. "You're immune to all of Umbrella's virus'."

Leon froze, his body going completely still, as his mind struggled to comprehend her words. "That-that's not possible," he stammered, his mind going back over eight years of cryptic, non-responsive conversations with the woman in question. "I was infected with the Las Plagas two years ago, Sherry. Ada lied to you."

"No, she didn't." Steve stepped forward, his fine features uncharacteristically solemn. "You were the subject of a lot of gossip around the complex, Leon. The Las Plagas was able to infect you, but it would never have matured. Your system would've have broken the parasite down before it fully developed. You and Sherry were like Wesker's Holy Grail because of it. He believes that if he studies the two of you long enough, he'll be able to overcome anyone else that might have the same immunity, and make his bioweapons unstoppable."

"Fuck!" Leon pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing to God that he didn't believe the kid. Unfortunately, Steve's explanation made too much sense, and explained exactly why Ada had kept him on such a short leash. "She let me go to Spain because she wanted to see how the parasite would react once it was inside of me, is that it?"

"I think so," Sherry said in a small voice. She looked down at her feet, her flaxen hair sliding forward, hiding her expression. "I really thought you knew, Leon. That's why I didn't think anything of it when you didn't mention it in your letters. I thought that you were just trying to spare me."

He sighed and pulled her close. "I would have, if I'd known," he told her in a quiet voice, still stunned by what he had learned. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and stepped back. "We should get going. We still need to fill the canteens before we go any further."

She gazed at him uncertainly. "We're okay, though?"

"Better than okay, honey. We're-"

"Family," she finished for him. Her smile returned as she gestured with the Broken Butterfly. "Lead the way, Leon. We'll follow."

Leon managed to return the smile, and even make it look real, before he turned to trudge up the sand once more. Now that he knew the truth, he knew that whatever hopes he may have held for the future were gone. Wesker would never let either of them go, despite what Ada had promised him. Only Wesker's death would release them, and maybe not even that. Would the government be willing to let them walk away, even if their head researcher suddenly disappeared?

He didn't think so, but he couldn't be sure. William Birkin had been the brilliant one in he and Wesker's two-man team. Wesker had eventually left research because he couldn't keep up with the other man. Now Wesker was the only man alive who understood Birkin's research, and Alexia Ashford's, and could actually translate it for them. Without Albert Wesker, it was possible that the HMC might simply collapse from within. It was time to go after the heart of the HMC, and cut it the fuck out.

Luis made his way to his side, keeping his voice low as he spoke. "What are you planning, cop?"

"What makes you think I'm planning anything?" he asked neutrally.

"After what I just heard?" Luis shook his head at that. "I know that you were planning to kill Ada before. What are you going to do now that you know the truth?"

Leon shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'm still going to kill her, Luis. That hasn't changed."

"No, but something has," the Spaniard muttered uneasily. "Am I going to be stuck taking care of your family sometime soon?"

He inhaled sharply, dismayed by the other man's perception. "Luis. . ." his voice trailed off as he searched for the right words. He cursed as they eluded him, and settled for the truth. "Just as soon as I get the chance, I'm taking Ada _and_ Wesker out. I'll probably survive Ada, but I can't take Wesker. He's going to kill me, and all I can do is make sure that I take him with me. Otherwise, Sherry will never be free of him."

Luis spat something in Spanish that even Leon wouldn't say aloud. "You're fucking crazy, Leon. You know that?"

"So, I've been told," Leon said dryly. "What do you say, Luis? Will you do it? Will take care of my little girl?"

"Leon. . ." The other man sighed heavily. "You know that I don't see her that way."

Leon looked down at the sand for a moment. "I know, you don't," he said, his voice low. "Sherry is an adult, now. If she ever sees you that way, then I don't have any objections. Just watch your back around Burnside. He's not exactly sane, and he's really attached to her."

"I _had_ noticed that, actually." Luis attempted a grin. "Don't worry, cop. I'll take care of your kid. Just promise me that you won't _let _Wesker kill you. Tell me that you're going to do your best to survive him, or the deal is off."

"I don't really want to die," Leon responded. "I just want the life that I once had. Freedom, Sherry at my side, and Claire in my bed. Right now, I'd settle for two out of three."

The Spaniard grunted. "I'll take that as an agreement, then."

"It was." Leon saw that they were almost to the well and nearly groaned with relief. "Thank God! I'm thirsty as hell."

"Me too."

Leon looked over his shoulder, catching Steve and Sherry in mid-bicker, and rolled his eyes. "Come on, you two. I want to get the canteens filled."

They hurried to the well and filled the flasks. Leon had Sherry and Steve drink first, and made him pour a bucket of water his head, hoping that would keep his body temperature down. Luis drank next, taking care not to drink too much, before dousing himself. He used two bucketfuls, muttering in Spanish about how much he hated his damn hair. Leon went last, drinking cautiously, and then cleaning himself up the best that he could. He wished that they'd found another canteen; two between four people wasn't going to last too long. At least, they had them. The water would help them survive a little while longer.

He heard a bird's cry in the distance and looked up. Squinting against the bright desert sun, he saw a single black bird flying overhead. It circled above them, releasing another cry, before flying away. Dread filled him at the sight. He drew both of his handguns and headed towards the top of the dune.

"Let's go, guys!" he called out urgently. "That looked like a damn crow!"

Sherry's eyes widened as she hurried to his side. "But we're in the desert!" she protested. "Do they even have crows in the desert?"

"Apparently," Leon said, grabbing her wrist and dragging her alongside him. "We don't want to waste our ammo on a flock of infected birds. They usually stick to one area, like a nesting ground or something. So, we'll go inside the first building we see, and make our way from there."

Luis and Steve brought up the rear, each hurrying to keep up with the other two. Neither had ever seen the crows before, but being pecked to death didn't seem like a good way to go. They reached the top of the sand dune, and they all stopped dead in their tracks. What looked like an entire city stretched out beneath them, so big that they couldn't see the end even from higher ground. It looked like a strange combination of a third-world country and a modern city. There were small shacks like the ones back in Spain, set among them were high-rise buildings, like those you'd find in a large metropolis.

The streets were littered with both cars and carts, even though the streets were a mixture of dirt and sand. Through his binoculars, Leon could see that were even _donkeys_ attached to the some of the carts. What the hell had they been forced into here? Dead bodies lay on the ground, and sure enough, Leon spied several birds feasting on the corpses closest to the entrance.

He swore and handed the binoculars to Luis. "What do you think?"

The Spaniard looked for several moments before handing them back. "I think we're in serious trouble, cop."

Leon gave them to Sherry as he checked all three of his guns. Her gasp told him that she was just as surprised as he was. "We have to get past the crows without getting torn apart, or wasting our bullets on them," he said grimly. "Any suggestions?"

Steve was now looking through them, and he pointed, as though that would help. "I see an open door down there, Leon. It's just _passed _the birds, but I think we can make it if you cover us with that rifle of yours."

"Shit," Leon muttered under his breath. "Let me see."

He put the binoculars to his eyes and zoomed in. "Where is it?" he asked impatiently.

"To the left," Steve answered, "just past the big bus that's on its side."

"I see it." Leon had Sherry and Luis look until they found the building, then put the binoculars away. "Look, I'm not the best shot in the world when it comes to the sniper rifle," he told them honestly. "I've probably got enough ammo to take care of the crows, but for every shot I make, I'll miss at least once, maybe twice. Can any of you do any better?"

They all shook their heads in tandem and Leon cursed violently to himself. "Fine," he snapped, unstrapping the TMP and shoving it at Steve. "Take this, and save the shotgun rounds for something bigger. Sherry, I want you to use the Beretta that Steve's carrying on the birds, but only if it have to. Got it?"

"Yes, Leon."

"Good." He knelt in the hot sand and pulled the sniper rifle out of the attaché case. He attached the scope with its laser sight and quickly adjusted it. "I'll follow just as soon as you're in the building. Don't come out for anything. Not even me. Is that understood?"

"Yes." Sherry knelt beside him, placing her hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong, Dad? Why are you freaking out like this?"

He let out a harsh breath and turned his head towards her, gazing at her through his bangs. "I've already lost Claire," he said in a low, emotion-laden voice. "I don't want to lose you, too."

"You won't," she told him, her voice soft. She hugged him to her, for once able to give _him _comfort. "I'll be careful, Leon. I promise you. You do your best to cover us, and we'll do our best to stay alive. Alright?"

He nodded curtly and drew away. "Go," he told her roughly. "Go, now."

Luis nodded at him as he led them down the dune. Once they reached the bottom, where the ground leveled out, they took off at a dead run. Leon watched them through the rifles scope, tracking their progress as they neared the city. The feeding birds stirred, their squawks ringing through the air, as they took to the skies after their quarry.

Leon shot the first bird as it was diving for Steve, who had somehow ended up in the lead. It dropped out of sight, and he aimed at the next. It faltered before falling from the air, and Leon tightened his grip on the rifle. One dove straight for Luis, and Leon caught it. It swayed a little before veering away, and he cursed as he realized that he'd only winged it.

Sherry leapt over a body, the Beretta hitting a bird that got too close. Leon tracked it carefully and killed it before swinging the rifle back to his family. Steve was the first one through the open door, Sherry and Luis following quickly. Leon breathed a sigh of as he waited for the crows to settle, and when they did, he killed every last one of them.

He put the sniper rifle back in his case and put it away. He drew the Killer 7 and made his own way down the dune. He picked his way through the rubble-packed streets until he reached the right building. He heard the first groan from behind him and didn't look back. He knew that sound, and what it meant, and he was getting his ass inside now!

He opened the door and stepped through, his gun held out before him. Luis stood as he came in, his grim smile dying as his eyes widened. "Get down!"

He whirled around, dropping to his back as the zombie rushed him. He brought his feet up, using his legs to keep the zombie off of him, as he brought the Killer 7 up. The zombie was just lowering his mouth to Leon's ankle when he pulled the trigger. There was a second shot, and its entire head disappeared. Leon pushed it off of him and out the door, scrambling to his feet and slamming the door closed even as another threw itself against it. He turned both locks, fumbling a little with the dead bolt before it slid home.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, his blue eyes wide as he turned around. "When the hell did they get so fast?"

Luis didn't answer as he gestured to his left. Steve lay on the couch in what appeared to be someone's living room, blood oozing from a wound on his shoulder, just below his neck. "There was one in the kitchen," Luis told him somberly. "It was in here and on Steve before we even heard it moan."

"Oh, God," Leon breathed, his heart breaking as he watched his daughter crying over the younger man. Steve's eyes met his own, and Leon realized that he wasn't dead yet. He hurried over to them, placing one had on Sherry's back, the other checking the wound.

"It won't stop bleeding," Sherry told him frantically. "I used the first aid spray and it's not working. I don't know what to do!"

"Calm down, honey," Leon said as soothingly as he could. "Let me look at him."

Sherry sniffed and swiped at her eyes. "O-Okay."

He studied the wound with a sinking feeling. He glanced at Steve and saw that the kid already knew. "You're not immune?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"I'm supposed to be," Steve answered, his green eyes filling with tears. "I guess Ada lied about that, too."

Sherry sobbed upon hearing that, and Steve forced himself to sit up. "Hey, Sher, don't do that." He used his left arm to bring her close, the right one was useless now. "Don't cry, beautiful. It's going to be okay."

"How?" she demanded through her tears. "You're infected now, Steve. You're going to turn into one of those _things_. This isn't fair. Ada said you'd be fine. She promised me!"

Steve just sighed and hung his head. "Maybe, Wesker didn't tell her everything. You're her favorite," he reminded her with a fleeting smile. "She never really liked me. You, she wouldn't lie to. Not on purpose, anyway."

Sherry's only response was to burrow closer, and he sighed again. "Leon, could you bandage this for me?" he asked as he calmly stroked her back. "Maybe, it will help some."

"Yeah, sure." Leon cleared his throat as his respect for the kid went up a few notches. "I'll be right back with some bandages. Luis, you want to help me look?"

_"Si,"_ the other man said shortly. The went into kitchen, and Luis stopped abruptly. "I'm sorry, _amigo_. I should've gone first. It should've been me, not the kid."

"No." Leon shook his head, his expression solemn. "Steve Burnside died eight years ago in Antarctica. He wasn't meant to be here."

"And I died two years ago in Spain," Luis reminded him quietly.

"Damn it, that's not what I meant."

"I know it's not." He ran a hand through his long hair and scowled. "As soon as we find something for Steve, I'm finding a pair of scissors and hacking this shit off. No more long hair for me!"

Leon couldn't dredge up a smile for him. "Have you cleared the house?" he asked.

Luis nodded. "It's clean. There are a couple of dead bodies in the backyard, but they're headless, so I'm assuming they won't be a problem."

"Probably not," he responded, injecting dryness into his voice. "You look in here for a first aid kit of some kind, and I'll check the bedrooms."

The Spaniard nodded curtly and began to open drawers. Leon went into the back part of the house, his hand on the butt of his favorite gun. He eased the first door he came to open carefully. The closet stood open, no zombie ready to jump out and surprise him. He looked at the clothes hanging in it and blinked back tears. Steve still needed proper clothes, though it wouldn't matter for much longer.

Why the fuck had he listened to the kid? Leon asked himself angrily. Why hadn't he insisted that they stay together. They might have been able to outrun the damned crows. And then, it would have been Leon in front, fighting off the zombie, instead of a twenty-five year old kid.

Leon checked the closet with sharp, angry movements. He found some clothes for Steve and tossed them over his shoulder. He grabbed a pair of old running shoes, palmed the Killer 7, and checked the next room. He found nothing useful and returned to the hall. He checked the linen closet at the end of the hall and found what he was looking for.

He took the little white box with the big red cross on it back into the living room. Luis was there, a pair of silver scissors in one hand, and a bottle of _very _expensive scotch in the other. He was standing at the boarded-up window, staring out through a space between a couple of slats. Leon watched him take a drink with longing.

"Save some of that for me," he threw out as he sat next to Steve. Luis grunted, one corner of his curving, before lifting the bottle again.

Leon smiled at Sherry and handed her the clothes. "Hold these for a minute, honey." She took them silently, tears still running down her cheeks, and his concern increased tenfold. "Luis, can I have those scissors for a minute?"

"Sure." Luis handed them to him and returned to his silent vigil. Leon turned to Steve with an apologetic look. "I'll have to cut the shirt off, so that I don't hurt you."

The younger man merely shook his head. "It doesn't matter. The arm's numb," he added simply.

"Still. . ." Leon let his voice trail off as he grasped the hem of the shirt and gingerly cut it up the center, and across the arms. He used antibiotic cream from the kit, even though he knew it wouldn't help, before taping a bandage over it.

The kid's color was bad, he noted with grief. His skin was a pale, pasty white. Soon enough, it would begin to turn that bluish-gray color that heralded death. But for now, Steve Burnside was one of his own. He'd do everything he could to keep him safe until the very end. And then, he'd kill Ada Wong with his bare hands for doing this to them all.

"I found fresh clothes for you," Leon told him. "I'll have to move your arms to get you into the shirt but—"

"I'll do it." Sherry's pale blue eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at Steve. "You go help Luis with his hair. I'll take care of Steve."

Leon hesitated only briefly before acquiescing. He'd give them some time alone. "Luis, I want to check the kitchen again. This time, for a water jug, or another canteen. Would you help me?" he asked, his voice rough despite his best efforts?

_"Si,"_ the other man said shortly. He followed Leon into the kitchen and handed him the bottle. "Burnside wants to go after Wesker before he dies, Leon. I thought you should know that."

Leon closed his eyes briefly and took a long drink. "I can't let him do that," he said, coughing a little. "Sherry would want to go with him, and—"

"She came up with the plan." Luis smiled faintly at the other man's surprised look. "Your daughter, she's a fierce one, _mi amigo_."

"Yes, she is," he said with a combination of sadness and pride. "What did she come up with?"

"She wants to find S.T.A.R.S., and use _Senor_ Redfield as bait for Wesker," came the stunning answer.

"But—" Leon broke off as he realized just how good an idea that was. "Claire would never forgive either of us."

"She doesn't care, Leon. Her _corazon _is dying. She is willing to take the risk," the Spaniard said with a shrug. "The question is, are you?"

Leon looked away and took another draught, this one longer than the last. "I made my choice when I brought Steve into our family," he said at length. He returned the bottle and grasped the scissors. "If you're going to butcher your hair, let me do it. Who knows? It might even end up even."

Luis smiled and grabbed a chair. "Just don't make me bald, cop. I can live with anything but that."

"I'll do my best," Leon returned, "but no promises."

Without a brush, there wasn't a chance in hell that it would come out anything close to even, but Leon did his best. When he was done, the other man's hair was uneven as hell, but his bangs were just above his eyes, and the back barely brushed his collar. Leon surveyed his handiwork with a shake of his head and gave Luis the scissors.

"Go check it in the bathroom, or something," he said. "I'll look for a water container."

"Okay."

Leon ignored the hair littering the floor and began to search the cupboards. He didn't find any canteens, but he found two empty plastic cartons with caps. He took them to the sink and turned on the water. It spit a few times, water screeching through the pipes, before gushing from the faucet. It was clear, and it didn't smell bad, so Leon took a chance and filled the gallon jugs.

He realized that they were going to be hard to carry and started searching for something to help. He found some bunji cords, similar to what you'd use on a car trunk, and he used those. Hopefully, they wouldn't slow he and Luis down too much, but they needed the water if they were going to survive.

He also searched through the drawers until he found a map of the area. It didn't give the name of the city, but he hadn't really expected it to. This wasn't a real city, and he was damned lucky to find any kind of map at all. In all likelihood, this place had been an Umbrella-run city, as Raccoon City had turned out to be. If the map was wrong, they'd discover it soon enough, and ditch the damn thing. If it worked, they were in business.

Luis came back to find the map spread out over the kitchen island, and Leon hunched over it. "Thanks, for the cut," he said abruptly, looking at the map. "Where do you think S.T.A.R.S. came in at?"

"If they're here, this gets my vote." He stabbed a finger at an ocean entrance, most likely a dock. "There was a dock back in Spain. The merchant had set up shop there. If it was still there, then they would have been forced to use the powerboat there."

"Chris is a linear thinker," Leon continued. "He'll be focused on finding the exit, and he'll head straight for it. If this map is right, the airport is only a few miles away from what I hope is the exit. I think he'll head to the helipad, in hopes of finding a working helicopter, or a small plane. We should try to meet them there, and keep them there for as long as we can."

"And if Wesker doesn't show?" the other man asked soberly.

"Then, we start looking for a self-destruct mechanism, and run like hell for the north end of the city."

Luis drew a sharp breath. "That's going to be a tough run, Leon. Do you think the kid's up to it?"

"No," Leon replied flatly. "I think Steve will be dead before we have to make that decision."

_"Mierda,"_ Luis swore roughly. "We're not going to last long on the streets, Leon."

"I've been thinking about that," Leon said, pointing to another point on the map. "There's a power plant here. It's only a couple of blocks away, but I bet it has an entrance to the sewer system. If we can make it there, we can get Steve off the streets, and away from the zombies. There might be a few down there, spiders too, but it would be safer than being caught in the streets. What do you think?"

"I say we go for it. It can't be any worse than being topside." Luis saw the water bottles and focused on them. "We should grab some food from the cupboard, too. Canned stuff that won't go bad. We can grab a can opener and take it with us, too."

"Find something to carry it all in, then," Leon told him shortly, grabbing the map. "We're pretty much out of room. I'll talk to Sherry."

He went back in the living room, pausing just inside the doorway. Steve and Sherry were huddled together, their hands joined, looking into each other's eyes. Leon hated that this had happened, that he couldn't find a way to cure the kid. Steve hadn't asked to be brought back to life any more than Luis had. Wesker had done this to them, with the help of Ada Wong, and their own government. It would end today.

He cleared his throat and made his way to the sofa. He sat next to the young couple, keeping his expression as open as possible. "Luis told what you're planning—" he began, only to be cut off.

"Don't you dare try to talk us out of this!" Sherry told him furiously. "Steve has a right to decide how he dies, and S.T.A.R.S. owes us for all they've done!"

"Sherry." She subsided, her rage and grief heartbreakingly apparent, and Leon attempted a smile. "I was going to say that I think we should use the helipad at the airport to stand against Wesker."

"Really?" They kids shared a glance, and both smiled.

"Yeah," Leon confirmed softly. He opened the map and began to explain. Then, Steve told him what _he_ had in mind, and Leon nearly wept. The selfish, bratty kid he'd wanted to punch was gone. In his place was a dying man, one who was willing to sacrifice everything to save the woman he loved—and that woman was not Claire Redfield.

"In the Arkham Mountains, Chris used a signal flare to signal the S.T.A.R.S. chopper. If we find one, we're going to aim it northeast, where I think they'll be approaching from, and use it to draw Alpha Team back to us." Leon folded the map up and tucked it into his vest. "You get all that, Sera?"

"I've got it, cop," Luis answered from the doorway. He ambled into the room, handing a gallon of water to Leon. The other gallon was hanging crosswise across his chest, on his left, so that he could hold it in place when he ran. A pillow case was in his hand, bulging with canned goods. "There are going to be a lot of those zombies outside. I think I'll take another gun, now—for backup."

Leon nodded as he secured the water, then the TMP Steve hadn't been able to use. "Do you want the Beretta?"

"No, I'll take the shotgun." Luis grabbed the Riot Gun off the floor where Steve had dropped it during the attack. He pumped it once, and handed his beloved Red 9 to Sherry. "Use both handguns, _nena_. You'll need them."

Back-up, my ass, Leon thought. Aloud, he only said, "Thank you, Luis." He turned back to the pale young man on the couch with a grim expression. "Can you walk?"

"Hell, yes," Steve told him, slowly gaining his feet. "I'll run if I have to, if it means not being lunch for some superfast zombie."

Leon attempted a smile. "If you have any trouble, call for me. I'll help you stay on your feet." He gave Sherry a stern look. "I want you and Steve to stay between Luis and I. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Leon." She moved closer to Steve, who gazed at her with ardent green eyes. "We'll be fine, Dad. You and Luis had better be careful, too."

"We will." Leon's voice was clipped as he spoke. "There's no easy way to do this. Those zombies are faster than anything we've dealt with before. And they won't be the only things out there. If you come across any animal, I don't care what kind, I want you to kill it. If it's not already mutated, it's infected, and it will come after us if it's left alive. Aim carefully, and make every shot count. Any questions?"

They shook their heads, Leon walked slowly to the door. Sherry and Steve lined up behind him, Luis guarding their backs. The last thing he wanted to do was open that door, and face the demons that had turned all of his dreams into nightmares, but none of them had any choice. They would survive, and someday, they would flourish. All they had to do was last long enough to kill Albert Wesker.

He put his hand on the door, uttered a prayer to whoever might be listening, and turned the handle. He threw it open, drawing both handguns, and began to run. The moans were low at first, but they quickly increased and redoubled, accompanied by the patter of too-fast feet. The zombies were coming out of the woodwork, rushing from the shadows, looking even more horrifying the bright light of day. They came in a rush, altogether, almost as if they were hunting in a pack.

Leon raised both guns and began to fire. The powerful handguns took the heads in one shot, just as Sherry's did from behind him. Luis was picking off any strays that they missed, or had come up behind them. Steve was using the enhanced Beretta, but he was reloading so often that it was only a matter of time before his ammunition ran dry.

One of the zombies spit at him, just barely missing his head, and Leon shot it with both guns. He hated the spitters, he thought angrily. He saw that the zombie had a tuft of red hair hanging from what was left of his cranium and suppressed a nervous laugh. Of course, Wesker had managed to add the hated Crimson Heads to the enhanced zombies here. God, but he truly hated them!

One of the zombies lurched forward and grabbed his shoulders. It lowered his head, it's mouth open, its dead eyes fastened on Leon's neck. He rammed the Killer 7 into its temple and pulled the trigger. The head exploded in a shower of gray matter and bone splinters even as Leon shoved the body away. The zombies stumbled backwards, managing to trip the two rushing up behind it. Leon fired into the head of each and jumped over them, not bothering to look behind him. Sherry was an excellent shot, and so was Luis. They had to keep moving if they were going to make it to the power plant in one piece.

He headed straight through the first intersection, cursing as he had to put the Handcannon away long enough to reload the Killer 7. He slammed the clip home and jerked the .50 caliber out of its holster just as a fresh pack of the undead ran towards him. His eyes narrowed with hatred as both guns boomed in his hands. He was terrified, but that was an involuntary thing. He couldn't stop the fear, but he could damn well control it.

"Steve!"

Leon cursed as he heard Sherry's cry. He began to back up, firing as he went. "I've got him!" he heard Luis yell. "Keep going! Don't stop, now!"

"Fuck!" The Killer 7 ran dry again and Leon had had enough. He kept the Handcannon trained on the incoming undead horde with his left hand and drew the TMP with his right. He propped the stock against his shoulder, aimed as well as he could with one hand, and pulled the trigger.

The machine gun jumped once before he steadied it. It wasn't as powerful as the Handcannon, but it delivered its shots that must faster. It tore through the mob with blinding speed, not severing the heads but impacting them with stunning force. .9 millimeter or not, there was a reason the TMP was his favorite automatic.

When he cleared the street he glanced over his shoulder. Steve was on his feet, a scrape on his cheek and dirt on his knees showing that he'd fallen. Leon took the opportunity to reload all of his guns, especially the TMP; it wasn't empty, but he wanted it full. He was taking any chances with their safety.

"Are you okay?" he threw out, his voice unintentionally harsh.

The boy nodded silently, his chest heaving, his breathing labored. He was obviously not doing well, but he was doing his best to keep up. His color had worsened slightly, but he was still with them. Steve loaded the Beretta to maximum capacity and pulled away from Luis. He smirked in the way Leon had hated from the start and made shooing gesture with the gun. Leon returned the smile as best he could and turned back to the street.

"The plant's only a block up, on the left. I know you're tired, but we're almost there. Can all of you make it?"

_"Si,_ Leon, we can make it," Luis told him, his voice heavy. Unspoken was the knowledge that, even though they could run, it was only a matter of time before they lost Steve. "We've all reloaded, cop. Get moving already."

Leon nodded, the gesture curt, and led them to the next intersection.

There were dead human bodies scattered throughout the street, but none were moving. He kept an eye on the decomposing corpses, desperately praying that they would stay down. They were almost at the end of the street when they caught sight of the newest Umbrella-inspired menace.

Two large, steel-gray forms came rushing at them on swift legs. The dogs stood at least five feet tall, their bodies slim, their legs corded with muscle. Leon got an impression of intelligence from the wolfhounds' pit-black eyes, of long noses and big teeth as they snarled and leapt for him.

He stumbled backwards, aiming for the head of each, but the dogs twisted and changed direction in mid-air. They hit the ground on either side of the group, spun around, and leapt again. Leon took the one closest to him with a shot to the head, Sherry and Luis taking the one on his right. It jerked with the impact and dropped to the ground, not yelping, but growling as it's body began to writhe.

"Shit!" Leon unloaded the TMP into its squirming body as tentacles burst through its skin. He jumped back as one lashed his ankle, just barely touching him. His ankle burned and he ignored it, his eyes searching the body for the parasite he knew was there. It emerged from the dog's back, and Leon blasted it with the Handcannon until it literally blew apart.

He turned to help the others, but they'd already destroyed theirs. Luis was trembling as he reloaded the Riot Gun, his pale blue eyes just a little too wide, and Leon realized that the Las Plagas were _his_ nightmare. "You alright?" he asked quietly.

The Spaniard nodded once, and he let it go. "Sherry?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Sherry answered, sounding almost disinterested, and he hid a smile. Sherry seemed to share his belief that the Las Plagas were nothing when compared to a super fast, flesh-eating zombie. "Good. Burnside?"

"They fucking _flanked_ us, Leon," the kid said with obvious disbelief. "They shouldn't have been able to do that!"

"It's the Las Plagas," Leon told him with a shrug. "It doesn't diminish the host's intelligence. It just amplifies their aggression levels."

"That's one smart fucking bug," Steve muttered as he shoved the last clip home. "I'm on my last clip, guys. We'd better find this place soon."

"We're almost there." Leon pointed to the large, gated building at the next intersection. "I'll blast the gate open when we get in there, but the place had to have workers. Sherry, give Steve the Striker, in case the Beretta runs dry."

"Okay." Sherry dug the enhanced shotgun out and gave it to Steve, who took it with a scowl. He wasn't fond of shotguns, she thought with a brief smile. He said they were loud and kicked too much. He'd hated them ever since their instructor back at the lab had first put one in his hands. But he didn't complain. He just took it, pumped it, and smiled at her.

He looked horrible, but Sherry didn't say anything. She was pushing any emotion away, locking it somewhere where it wouldn't interfere with their mission. Once Steve died. . .She shook herself and concentrated on reloading her weapons. If she lost it then, Leon would take care of her, make sure she didn't become a liability. Until then, her grief would just have to wait.

"Are we ready?" Leon asked, his eyes bleak as he watched his daughter bury her pain. There was a chorus of "Yes" from all three, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. "Come on, then."

They made it to the power plant almost too easily. There were none of the unearthly groans they'd come to expect from the lightening fast zombies, no deep, reverberating growls from any guard dogs. Leon stepped through the broken gate uneasily, wondering where the hell all of the monsters had gone.

The power plant's main door was locked, but Leon wasn't surprised. He spied a large shipping truck and took them around that side of the building. The loading docks stood wide open, and he prayed that they could handle whatever awaited them inside that darkened interior.

He turned on his field light, which was miraculously still attached to his belt. He climbed on up through one of the bay doors, both guns held before him. The light didn't penetrate very far into the darkness, but he could see no immediate threats. He waited a few moments longer before holstering the guns and turning to help the others up.

Luis pushed Steve forward first, kneeling so that the younger man could use his back for leverage. Leon grasped him under the arms and pulled him onto the dock. Sherry came next, ignoring the Spaniard, and pulling herself up. Luis shot her a dark look as he stood and did the same, muttering something in Spanish that translated roughly to, "Stubborn woman."

Leon smiled a little as he rose from his crouch and drew his weapons. "Stick close to me in here. We need to find a way to restore the power, so we're not stumbling around in the dark for too long."

"We'll be careful," Sherry told him in a hushed voice, drawing her own flashlight from her vest. She handed it to Luis, along with a long strip of leather. She saw his questioning look and rolled her eyes. "Don't ask, Luis, just use it."

He grunted and secured the flashlight to the Riot Gun as best he could. He aimed the gun to check the light's stability, revealing several barrels of hazardous waste. _"Dios_, but that can't be good!" he exclaimed.

"It never is," Leon responded dryly. "Unless we get overrun in here, don't shoot the barrels, guys."

There was a chorus of unanimous agreement from all three, and Leon's smile widened. It died as he began to lead them deeper into the shadows. It was dead quiet in the loading bay, not even the hum of machinery breaking the silence. Leon hoped that they would find a circuit breaker in here. He'd noticed that the metal shutters that gave access to the loading docks had both manual and electronic locks. What bothered him about that was that they were still open. This was a nuclear power plant, after all. There should have some kind of protocol in place in case of an emergency. Shutting the power down usually wasn't part of that.

Of course, it had happened in Raccoon City, once the outbreak had begun to spread. God only knew what genius had thought of it. It had certainly made backtracking a necessity for _him_, Leon thought with a grimace. Why some idiot always had to cut the power when something went wrong, he would never understand. And why didn't these places have backup generators? Weren't they supposed to?

A flicker caught his attention, and he turned to his right. His field light shined on what appeared to be a barrel of uranium. He shook his head and picked up the neatly folded piece of paper lying atop it. He opened it with trepidation, expecting another infuriating note from Ada. He saw that it was a map of the power plant, and sighed with relief. One less thing to worry about.

"I've got a map," he announced, showing it to the others. "The sewer entrance is in the first floor basement to the east, but we'll have to hit the west office on the second floor to restore the power first."

"There are a lot of offices in the west wing," Sherry commented, her voice carefully neutral.

"Yeah, there are." Leon knew that she wanted to search for survivors, but he didn't believe they'd find any. This place hadn't been locked down as it should have been, which meant that any people they found probably wouldn't be human any longer. "You can look if you'd like, but keep within shouting distance, and take Luis with you."

"But—"

"No buts, Sher." Steve was leaning against the a pile of crates, his chest rising and falling as he fought to draw breath. "Don't go looking for survivors alone. Not in a place like this."

Sherry bit her lip for a moment before nodding her assent. "Fine," she said at length. "Come on, hick. You're with me."

Luis raised one black eyebrow and turned to Leon. "Thanks a lot, cop."

Leon dredged up a smile for him. "We'll be right behind you, Luis."

Pale blue eyes cut between he and Steve. Luis finally settled on a nod before turning away. Leon turned to the young man beside him, his expression somber. "Are you going to make it to the airport?" he asked bluntly.

"I'll make it." Those emerald eyes met his evenly as Steve straightened. "I want Wesker even worse than you do. I will _not_ screw this up."

They began to follow Luis and Sherry into the west hallway. "Can I ask you why you lied about not remembering the last eight years?"

Steve coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I've spent eight years believing I was in love with Claire," he said, shrugging. "I really thought there was something between us back then. I kept waiting for her to show up at the lab, guns blazing, to save me. When it didn't happen, I decided to take matters into my own hands."

"And Ada let you, just like that?" Leon asked, his skepticism plain.

"Hell, no," the injured man exclaimed. "She trained my ass off. Told me that if I wanted to be a part of this, then I needed to be prepared. She moved me to a different part of the facility, and that's when I met Sherry."

Leon frowned at him as they entered a wide hallway, only a few feet behind the woman in question. "I thought you'd been imprisoned together?"

Steve shook his head negatively. "Nah, we were in the same place, but different parts of the building. I only met Sher last year, after I was moved," he explained. "I thought she was cute, but she was way too cocky. We fought most of the time, especially when she outdid me during combat training."

Leon laughed a little at that. "Considering that both of her parents were scientists, I think she turned out pretty well," he said.

"Yeah, she's good," he agreed without rancor. "She used to talk about you and Claire all the time, I told her about my family and how Claire and I escaped Rockfort. She was really pissed at Claire for not coming for her, and so was I," he admitted with a sigh. "It kind of bonded us, you know."

"What did Ada say about your. . .relationship?" Leon asked quietly.

Steve grinned just a little maliciously. "She was _not_ happy about that," he said with satisfaction. "There wasn't anything she could do, either. She separated us twice, and Sherry managed to sneak into my part of the facility both times, no matter how much security covered her. After that, Ada stopped trying."

Steve hesitated before saying, "Look, don't take this the wrong way, but she was real protective of Sher. Almost like she was _her_ daughter, you know?"

Leon's lips thinned with displeasure at that. "So, do you know why Ada chose now to do this?" he asked, gesturing at their surroundings.

"Uh, yeah, I do." Steve shifted from one foot to the other, looking extremely uncomfortable, scratching his chest absently. "I only know what Sher told me, but she said you were depressed, and it was getting bad, and that Ada wanted get you away from Wesker before you did something stupid."

"Shit," Leon muttered, the Handcannon coming up as he heard movement to their left. "Stay here."

The young man snorted as he raised the Riot Gun. "Forget it, Leon. I'm not dead, yet."

"No, you're still talking," he muttered under his breath. He heard the kid chuckle behind him and shook his head. He whistled to warn Sherry and Luis before trying the door handle. It was locked, but he didn't let that stop him. He drew back his foot and kicked the door as hard as he could. It swung open, crashing against the wall, before rebounding back.

Leon pushed it open, and a Sweeper came running towards him. He shot it once, watching with dispassionate eyes as it was thrown on its back. The purple-skinned B.O.W. sprang to its feet, rushing forward, and another .50 caliber bullet took it down. It squealed, its over-muscled limbs flailing as it died. A pool of blood spread out beneath it, and he stepped around it carefully.

He picked up a chair that was turned over near the dead bioweapon and set it on its legs. "Have a seat while I check the desk."

Steve dropped into it gratefully, closing his eyes as he sank into the plush cushioning. Damn, but he felt like shit! he thought with a shiver. He was sweating like he had a fever or something, and his skin itched all over. He knew it was only the effects of the zombie's bite. The new virus was extremely virulent, and obviously strong enough to overpower the T-Veronica virus that was already inside of him. He hadn't liked being a monster, but damn it, he liked being _alive_.

He slitted his eyes and watched Leon as he searched the desk. He had spent most of the last eight years hating this man because of what Ada had told him about his relationship with Claire. This was the man that Claire had been in love with when she'd met _him_ in the prison complex. He'd believed that Leon Kennedy was the reason Claire hadn't come for him. His presence in the recreation of Antarctica had seemingly proven that.

Sherry had spent the last year trying to convince him otherwise, but he hadn't believed her, so sure that only Claire's relationship with this man had kept her away. Now, he knew that she'd left all three of them behind, and he didn't even care anymore. He loved Sherry Birkin, for all the good it was going to do either of them.

He saw that Leon had a file in his hand and stirred himself. "What's it say?"

Leon glanced up from the file he reading, trying not to look as concerned as he felt. "It's a memo from the HMC's board of directors. Telling the manager of the plant that the biohazard safety system was going to be tested, and not to initiate lockdown went it went off.

"Well, that explains why this place was wide open when we got here," he murmured tiredly.

"Yeah, it does." Leon stuffed the file in his tactical vest and rounded the desk. "We're not going to find any survivors here. Let's find the others and get the power restored. We need to get to the helipad yesterday."

Steve pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he regained his balance. "I'm fine," he said in response to the other man's worried look. "I've got a few more hours in me, at least."

God, he hoped so, Leon thought. Aloud, he only said, "Good, because your idea only works if you're there to implement it."

"Yeah, so let's get moving already," the kid said impatiently.

One corner of Leon's mouth quirked upwards as he walked to the door. He found Sherry and Luis out in the hall, both looking harried and nervous. "What did you find?" he asked immediately.

"More of those enhanced zombies," Sherry said grimly, her eyes lingering on Steve.

"And this." Luis held up a thin plastic card key, simply labeled, "M. Key Card."

"Great," Leon muttered as he took it. Key cards equaled multiple monsters in the former Umbrella world. He reached into his tactical vest and pulled out the z-shaped crank. "Sherry, do you have room for this?"

Her light blue eyes widened as she took it. "I can't believe we haven't used that yet," she said as she crammed it into her vest.

"Yeah, I know." He stuck the key in its spot and patted his pocket. "We'll need it, and the chess plugs, eventually. Ada wouldn't have left them for us if we couldn't use them."

She looked surprised by his use of the other woman's name but chose not to comment. They had enough to deal with without beating that particular horse. "We found the elevator, but it's dead," she told him. "We'll have to take the stairs to the second floor."

Leon checked the map, tracking the route to the power room. "Luis, I want you with me," he said, cutting quickly through Sherry's protest. "Luis isn't scared of the zombies they way that we are. I want him to help me secure our path. You need to help Steve up those stairs. It's not going to be easy for him, and you're the better shot. Can you handle it?"

"Of course," she answered with faint arrogance. She moved closer to the young man in question, and he flashed her an atypically fragile smile. He took her hand, squeezing briefly, and she returned it. "We're ready, Leon."

"Let's go, then." Leon took the front, Luis at his side. The Spaniard looked tense, but not nearly as scared as he'd been when confronted with the wolfhounds, or the Los Ganados. "The zombies don't scare you too much, do they?"

Luis shrugged as they entered the stairwell. "They're scary enough, cop. They're just not Las Plagas."

"Yeah, well here they come," he responded as one came rushing down the stairwell. He took a step back, to give Luis room to work with the shotgun, and aimed for its head. The head exploded in a shower of blood and atrophied brain. The body tumbled down the stairs, coming to rest at their feet, and Leon jumped back before it could touch him.

"Fucking zombies," he hissed, even as more groans came up to them from the darkened recess of the lower levels. "Everybody up!"

They jumped over the body and climbed the stairs, taking out another undead corpse near the exit. He pushed it out of the way with his foot and pushed open the door. When nothing greeted him, he stepped into the second floor hallway with cautious movements. He waved the others forward and shut the door firmly behind them. So far, they hadn't run into any zombies that could open doors, but he wasn't taking any chances.

"We're not looking for survivors anymore," Leon announced shortly. "We don't have the time or the ammo to waste on that kind of operation. We find the power room, restore the electricity, and head straight for the sewers."

"We're with you, Dad."

He smiled faintly and signaled for them to follow. He glanced in each office window he passed, but to his relief, he saw nothing that required they search them. He came to the door marked, "Power Room," and led them inside. His gaze landed on an open panel with four slots, eerily similar to one he'd found in the R.P.D., and he began to laugh. Well, at least he knew where to use the damn chess plugs, now!

He took them out of his vest and inserted them into the panel. He pushed the switch beside it, and the entire room lit up. "That's it, guys. The elevator should be working, now."

"Thank God," Steve exclaimed, leaning heavily on Sherry. "Let's get to the damned sewers already."

"Giant, poisonous spiders, here we come," Leon said with dark humor.

"Great," Luis sighed in response. "The fun just never stops with you, cop."

Leon shrugged as they left the room. "With any luck, there won't be many zombies down there," he said. "I'll take the damned spiders, venom and all."

"Then, let's go," Sherry said, unable to conceal the waver in her voice. "I just want to get this over with."

Silence fell as they all realized that she was talking about more than just this trial. "Yeah, we're going," Leon told her briskly, heading for the door.

He turned left once he was out of the door, towards the large freight elevator. There was no way he was going anywhere near that freakin' stairwell, again. He reached out to push the button and hesitated. "I've seen this movie," he mumbled, half to himself. "Lots of special effects, crappy dialogue, and a skinny brunette that Claire would've put to shame."

Luis heard him and smiled faintly. "It was even worse in Spanish, _mi amigo_." He studied the large elevator and took a step back and to his right. "_Si, _there were a lot of zombies in that elevator. I remember that well enough."

The men traded a glance and quickly checked their weapons. Just in case, Leon thought with a mental shrug. "Are you loaded, Sherry?"

"Yes, Leon. We're ready," Sherry assured him. "Just hurry."

Leon took a deep breath and depressed the button. He took two steps back, the Handcannon drawn and aimed at the doors. Luis did the same with the Riot Gun, looking a bit nervous himself. The elevator arrived with a quiet noise, and the doors slowly slid open.

A man was sitting propped up against the wall, a grenade launcher cradled in his arms. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt with a green vest over it, and green fatigues tucked into lace-up boots. His hair was close-cropped, his features sporting a tired, weathered look. His eyes were concealed by plain black sunglasses, which came up as he raised his head.

"Holy shit!" the man exclaimed, his voice deep and gravelly. "Is that you, Kennedy?"

Leon laughed as he reached a hand out to keep the doors open. "Shit, Carver, what are _you_ doing here?"

"Hiding," came the prompt, unapologetic answer. The man rose to his full, six foot height, and tucked the shades into his vest. "I'm out of ammo, man. You got any?"

"Not for that," he replied, gesturing towards the grenade launcher. "How did you get in here with the power out?"

Jack Carver shook his head negatively. "I squeezed my ass into a ventilation shaft, and came in through the emergency hatch," he answered with dry humor. "Don't tell me you took the stairs?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Leon waved the others aboard the elevator and pressed the down button. "Do have another weapon?"

"Yeah, I found this in Antarctica, believe it or not." Jack pulled a Magnum out of his vest, flipping it open to show that it was empty. "You got any .45 rounds tucked into that suitcase of yours?"

The elevator slowed to a crawl, then stopped at the first-floor basement. Well, he knew who'd gotten the Magnum and grenade launcher back at the lab. He'd have to remember to tell Chris, Leon thought inanely as he nodded in affirmation. "Give us a minute to clear this hallway and—"

The doors opened, revealing two Hunters at the end of the hallway. "I've got these two," Jack said, his voice becoming even lower, his expression almost feral.

He dashed past Leon almost too quick to track with the naked eye. Leon watched with shock and horror as the man's hands changed, his fingers lengthening into claws. Jack swiped at the first Hunter and took its head. Blood gushed from the arteries in the creature's neck even as it went down.

The second Hunter rushed him, leaping at him, using its body weight to bring the man down. Jack growled low in his throat, almost like a big cat, before bringing his legs up and pushing the B.O.W. off of him. He sprang to his feet even as the Hunter did, and this time _he _was the aggressor, sprinting towards the monster and using both claws. The Hunter's body was torn apart, the torso landing some feet away from his legs.

Jack's hands returned to normal as he turned back to Leon. "Did I ever tell you about my little adventure in Jacutan?" he asked almost idly.

Leon's kept his gun trained on him, though he did lower it an inch. "No, Jack, you didn't," he answered cautiously. "Why don't you tell me about it, now?"

"Some crazy scientist was experimenting with human DNA," the other man said in that deep, low growl that was his voice. "He was trying to bring out the latent animal in all of us, or something like that. He had this serum, and there was this chick who needed to rent my boat, and we kind of tangled some."

"Jesus, Jack." Leon lowered the Handcannon, torn between fear and exasperation. "When are you going to learn not to follow every piece of tail that swings it at you?"

Jack grunted at that. "Probably never," he admitted. "How do you think I ended up in this crazy spot in the first place?"

Leon sighed heavily as he traded an unreadable glance with Luis. "Let me guess: Tall, long legs, husky voice, favors red satin?"

"I see you've met her," the other man replied with a grin. "She a friend of yours, Leon?"

"No," he snapped, unable to stop himself, adding, "But I _do _know her."

"Her name is Ada Wong," Luis added quietly.

"Yeah, she called herself Ada." Jack took a careful step forward. "Still willing to part with some ammo?"

"Sure," Leon answered with a sigh. He dug a box of .45 caliber bullets out of his attaché case and tossed them to him. He watched the other man reload with a shake of his tawny head. "Was she worth it, Jack?"

Jack's slow smile said it all. "You have no idea, Leon. I've never met a woman that limber!"

"Okay!" Sherry exclaimed, "That's way too much information. Dad, who is this guy, and how do you know him?"

Jack's hazel eyes widened at that. "_This_ is your little Sherry?" he asked with disbelief. "Damn man, I was expecting pigtails or something."

Her pale eyes narrowed. "Leon?"

"I met him three years ago, honey. He was a pilot before the Navy court-martialed him for consorting with—" Leon broke off with a wince.

The other man merely chuckled. "Let's just say that I like to drink, and I like women, even when they're a Mafioso's mistress."

Luis laughed at that. "An all-around lady's man, huh?"

"You could've called me that, back in the day." Jack reloaded his magnum and stuffed the remaining bullets in his vest. "So, any idea on how to get the hell out of here, Kennedy?"

"We're heading for the sewers," Leon answered, grateful for the change of subject. "We can get to the airport from there."

Jack smiled crookedly. "Guess that explains what _I'm_ doing here, then."

"We could use a pilot of our own," Steve said, his voice dangerously weak. "Leon, I think we should get moving, now. I'm not feeling so hot all of a sudden."

Leon's gaze turned bleak as he turned to the young man. His skin was just beginning to turn that grayish hue that indicated imminent death. "I'll take him, now," he told Sherry quietly.

She shook her head, her expression obstinate. "I've got him," she said, her voice soft. "Let's keep going, Leon. Please," she added, her light blue eyes glassy as she fought tears.

"Alright, honey." Leon waved Jack forward, unholstering the TMP and giving it to him. "Luis and I will take the front, Sherry and Steve in the middle. Will you guard our backs?"

Jack's expression sobered as he realized that the red-headed kid was infected, and close to turning. "I've got you covered," was all he said, willing to kill the kid if it became necessary. "You just get us where we're going."

Leon held his gaze for a moment longer before turning away. "Let's go."


	6. The Best Laid Plans

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters in the work below. If I did, RE4 would have had zombies instead of bugs!

**Synopsis:** T-virus, G-virus, T-Veronica virus, Las Plagas. . .you get the drift.

**Author's Note: **I apologize for the wait, but although this story is finished, it was originally unbeta'd, and it needed a once-over. Hopefully, all the little mistakes will be gone now. This chapter: The Sewers—Ugh! Don't you just love tight, dark, dank, _wet _ underground places?

* * *

**Chapter Six: The Best Laid Plans**

The entrance to the sewer was hidden, of all places, the men's restroom. Leon laughed silently as he spied the open manhole, set right in the center of a string of urinals. Perfect, he thought to himself, his nose wrinkling at the smell. It wasn't bad enough to be trapped in the middle of nowhere, with a former Navy pilot who was apparently part animal, and a Tyrant who was about to become a zombie. Oh no, he had to go into a manhole that had obviously doubled as an extra urinal.

"I seriously hate my life," he muttered under his breath, even as he descended the first rungs. He climbed down and quickly turned around, the Handcannon drawn, as his eyes searched the semi-darkness. Down here, there were dirty lights every few feet, bathing the path before them in a sickening shade of yellow. Yeah, _this _was where he wanted to be right now!

"_Dios_, but this sucks!" Luis exclaimed as he came to stand beside him. He looked down at the dirty water that nearly reached his knees with obvious disgust. "S.T.A.R.S. had better show up at that damned airport, Leon. I am _not_ backtracking through this shit."

"Leon?" Sherry dropped to the bottom and pointed up. "Jack needs you to catch Steve while he lowers him."

Leon stepped forward and reached up, Luis rushing to help him. Together, they managed to lower the young man to the water-covered ground. Steve straightened immediately, doing his best not to sway as the virus annihilated his immune system. Sherry was at his side in an instant, smiling as she pulled his hand across her shoulders once more.

"Thanks, babe," he said, his voice low.

"You're welcome," she whispered in return, pressing a kiss to the hand under her own. "Just hang on, baby. It won't be long, now."

Steve managed to return her smile. "I know."

Jack came down the ladder, immediately drawing his Magnum, as well as the TMP. "I closed the cover behind us, Leon. I don't want anything following us down here."

"Good," Leon said tiredly. "Be on the lookout for big fucking spiders that spit poison, then."

Jack just shrugged his broad shoulders. "Can't be worse than the exploding human experiments in Jacutan."

Leon looked at him, startled. "They didn't have spikes coming out of their bodies, did they?"

"No, just weapons that they knew how to use."

"Damn, Jack." Leon clutched the Handcannon, Luis at his side. "At least, the zombies can't use guns!"

"Definitely a plus," came the droll response.

He pulled out the map and mentally tracked the route to the airport. "We don't have too far to go, but we'll have to take a detour once we reach the ventilation fan here." He stabbed a finger at the map, then traced the path they'd be forced to take. "These rooms circle around the junction. We'll make our way through them to the other side."

"A lab, huh?" Jack smiled, the expression out of place on his battered features. "Hanging with you is never boring, Kennedy."

"I'd take those South American dissidents over Umbrella B.O.W.s any day," Leon sighed. He tucked the map away and drew the Killer 7, gripping it in his left hand this time. "Let's get this over with."

He kept both guns at the ready as they approached the first intersection. He turned the corner, his eyes darting to the ceiling. One of the big, purplish-green spiders scuttled along the ceiling, its multiple eyes glinting in the dim light. Leon jumped back and shot it once with each gun. It dropped to the water with a splash, all eight legs twitching in its death throes.

Another spider was creeping closer, dropping from the wall to their left. It spit a fine green mist, which Leon leaped backwards to avoid. Luis and Jack stepped forward, the riot gun and the Magnum booming in the enclosed space. This spider also flipped to its back as it died, and Leon stifled yet another urge to laugh. They'd died the same way in Raccoon City. He never had figured out why. It was just the way that they died.

"Thanks, guys." Leon drew a deep breath and took the front once again. He spied a body in the murky depths of the water, then another. He pointed at them as he carefully maneuvered around them, warning the others of their presence. There had been bodies in the sewers back in Raccoon too, although they hadn't revived during his return trip through there. Still, he wasn't taking any chances. Knee-high water or not, the new zombies were fast as hell.

There was a ledge to his right, and he approached it cautiously. He saw the body of a man in a pair of overalls, the words "HMC" stitched over his left breast. "Cover me," he said as he grasped the ledge and pulled himself up.

Luis trained the Riot Gun on the dead worker, hoping the Riot Gun was still as good long range as it had been in that cabin in Spain. The last thing he wanted was to wound the other man while trying to protect him. Once this was over, he'd tell Leon exactly why he'd let Ada Wong recruit him back in Madrid. He owed the guy his life, in more ways than one, and he deserved to know the full truth.

Leon kicked the body once, both guns pointed at the corpse. When the body fell over, landing on its side, he holstered the Handcannon. He searched the body quickly, trying to ignore the fact that he was touching a dead person. He came up with a six-sided crest, made of stone and metal. He frowned as he turned it over in his hand, wondering what the hell it was for. The letters "HMC" jumped out at him, and he cursed fluently.

"What do you make of this?" he asked, jumping back into the water.

"A key to something, maybe?" Luis looked at it and shrugged. "What does HMC stand for?"

"It's Wesker's organization," Steve said in a ragged voice.

"Yeah," Sherry said in quiet confirmation. "I don't know what it stands for, but that's the name on all the equipment back at the lab."

Jack looked bored as he peered down the passage. Leon did a double take, his blue eyes going wide. Jack's own eyes were glowing, changing from an ordinary hazel to an animalistic shade of orange. "Jack. . .?"

The other man turned to him, his eyes turning normal. "This passage is clear," he said evenly, ignoring the blond's man's wide-eyed look. "There's a leg sticking out at the next intersection, but no body heat of any kind coming from it."

Leon cleared his throat and stuffed the stone-and-metal crest in his vest. "Alright, then. Let's go."

Luis' pale blue eyes swept over the group as he shook his head. "Weirdest family I've ever seen," he muttered as they began to walk once more.

"Tell me about it," Leon returned with a little half-smile. "I went from being alone to being responsible for four other people. Talk about a change."

He fell silent as they made their way through the dirty water. "You really trust this guy?" he asked finally, his voice hushed.

"Yeah, I do." Leon pointed the Handcannon at the body Jack had seen as they approached an intersection. "Jack drinks too much, and he'd do anything to get laid, but he's a good guy. A little reckless, maybe, but we can count on him."

"Okay." Luis scanned the corridor uneasily. The distant sound of the ventilation fan whirred in the distance, telling him that they were close to the laboratory that would serve as their detour. "We go straight now, then left, _si_?"

"Yep," Leon answered with false joviality. "Chin up, Sera. We're almost out of this."

He managed an answering smile, though it never reached his eyes. "Better late than never, eh?"

There was a growl from behind them, followed by Jack's voice. "Hurry it up, Kennedy. There's a new smell in here, and it ain't no damned spider."

"_Shit!_" Leon dropped back, shoved the Killer 7 in its holster, and pulled Steve's free arm over his shoulder. "You've got the back, Jack. Luis, take a left at the next intersection. Sherry, help him. I've got Steve."

Steve flashed him a weak smile as they began to run. Leon returned it tightly, cursing as he realized that he was taking almost all of the kid's weight. Steve's breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling as he strove to draw breath. Sweat plastered his red hair to his head, and glistened on his pale skin. The kid wasn't going to make it much farther, and Leon only prayed that they found S.T.A.R.S. before he died. Otherwise, they were going to find themselves fighting a Tyrant that felt absolutely no pain, and probably couldn't be stopped.

The sound came then, faint but unmistakable. It sounded like a chattering of teeth, punctuated by intermittent heavy-breathing. "Jack, can you tell where it's coming from?" he asked in a hiss, hoping the guy's enhanced senses included hearing.

"Up ahead and to the left," came the unsurprising answer.

"Sherry, take Steve," he said, passing the young man to her once again. He balanced the attaché case on his knees, grabbing the sniper rifle and attaching the thermal scope to it. "It's either a Regenerator or an Iron Maiden. Its a corpse that was directly exposed to several of the Las Plagas parasites. You can't see the parasites unless you've got some kind of thermal equipment, and—"

"I'll be able to see them," Jack cut in, his eyes glowing orange once more. "Anything else I should know?"

"Aim for the little red spots," Leon supplied promptly. "If you miss, they regenerate, hence the name. The Iron Maidens have two foot metal spikes that come out of their bodies, and they explode as they die, so don't get too close."

"Got it," Jack said curtly, trading the TMP for the Magnum.

Leon shot Luis a look over his shoulder. "Stay here," he said, and then signaled for Jack to follow.

The chattering sound became louder as they approached the intersection that housed the big ventilation fan. The fan was loud enough, but the higher-pitched, more subtle sound cut through it eerily. Leon stopped where he was and dropped back a few steps, signaling for Jack to the same. The other man fell back beside him, and the creature stepped into view.

The Regenerator's long teeth crashed together in time to the reanimated corpse's shaking. It turned towards them, and Leon brought the rifle to his shoulder, closing one eye as he looked through the scope. Jack was already firing as he took the first shot. He hit the parasite writhing the high in the creature's right shoulder, then moved to the red spot on its left hip. Jack had already destroyed two parasites, and he obliterated the last with a laugh.

"Damn, that thing's real ugly, Leon."

"Keep shooting," Leon told him as he pulled the trigger again, unable to keep an answering chuckle from his own voice. The Regenerator exploded in a shower of body parts, and his own laughter rang out. "Dammitt, Jack. Don't make me laugh while I'm shooting something! I almost wasted a round because of you."

"Hey," the other man grinned, "I had your back."

"Leon."

He turned, his smile dying, as he observed Steve. "I'm not dead, yet," the young man whispered, his weight close to dragging he and Sherry both into the murky water, despite Luis' help.

"I'll take him." Jack shoved the Magnum in his vest and shouldered him with ease. He kept the TMP in his right hand as he gripped Steve's waist in his left. "Go ahead. Take your kid with you. Me and Luis here will watch your backs."

Luis eyed him with wary blue eyes even as he nodded. "_Si_, cop. Your _amigo_ and I will take care of your boy."

_His boy_. Leon ran a hand through his hair and extended his hand. Sherry took it and stepped close, shadows darkening the delicate skin beneath her eyes. He sighed and ran a hand over her blond hair. "Are you ready to go, honey?"

Sherry nodded, unable to muster a smile for the man who was trying so hard to save them. "I'm with you," she told him tiredly, bringing the Broken Butterfly up.

Leon released her hand and drew both handguns. He turned left and led them through the tunnel, where a small red lift sat waiting. Everyone climbed on, Luis muttering under his breath at the tight fit. Leon pushed the button and the lift slowly began to rise.

A hatch opened above them, and bright light filtered through. The lift came to a stop, and Leon's heart sank. Yes, they were in a lab, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't the one on the map. The room was too big, for one thing, and it was far from empty. There were three clear tanks in the center of the large room, each filled with a bluish liquid. Barely discernible were the large, not-quite human forms that rested inside of them.

"Tyrants," Leon breathed, keeping his voice low. His eyes were wide as he looked around the room, taking in the three tanks on the south wall, each unbroken, and all occupied. "We have to get out of here—_now._"

Leon grabbed Sherry's free hand and pulled her towards the door. He heard Luis and Jack talking in low voices, the later asking the other what a Tyrant was. But both were moving with he and Sherry, which was exactly what they needed to be doing. He reached the door and cursed under his breath when he saw the hexagon-shaped depression smack in the center of it. He pulled the stone-and-metal object out of his tactical vest and shoved it into the hollow.

The door slid open, and they rushed through, only to find themselves in some kind of boiler room. Several bug-like creatures came racing towards them, even as the sound of breaking glass sounded from behind the closed door. Leon kept going, using both handguns to fire into the mass of Novistador-like monsters as he went. One jumped to the pipes to his left, and it was blown apart as Luis fired the Riot Gun from behind him. Sherry's .45 boomed beside him, and they gradually made their way through the swarm of unbelievably agile creatures.

"Chimeras!" Leon gasped, remembering Jill's descriptions of the big bugs in the Spencer Mansion so long ago. They raced through the room, reaching the door, just as another Chimera crawled out of the vent above it. It dropped to the floor and jumped at Leon. He blasted it with the Handcannon and the Killer 7, and it practically flew apart.

They took the door into another room similar to the last. Pipes ran alongside the walls, and more Chimeras blocked the path to the right. "This way!" Leon yelled, shooting one as he took the left path.

Sherry followed, rushing to a control panel at the end of the path. "I found the power switch," she told him as she pushed it. "The reading says the power was off for this sector. We've got juice, now."

Leon shoved the empty Killer 7 into its holster and wrapped both hands around the Handcannon. It thundered in his hands, taking out the Chimeras that flowed over one another in their haste to get to him. Sherry was beside him in an instant, Luis and Jack taking the ones that came at their backs. There was a loud crashing noise from the next room, and Leon jumped at the sound.

"We've got to get out of here before that Tyrant breaks through!" He leapt over the pile of squirming Chimeras, shooting anything in the writhing mass that moved. He blasted one that came rushing at him from the right, and it was thrown back into the hot pipes. "The door's clear. Let's move it!"

Sherry hurried towards him, and he threw the door open. Jack followed her through, dragging Steve when he stumbled. Luis came next, his pale eyes narrowed. Leon went last, slamming the door closed behind him, hoping that they could outrun the Tyrant.

He heard a shot and rushed forward to find Sherry standing over a headless corpse. Another zombie rushed at her from the left, and he watched her foot lash out in a kick he _knew_ she had gotten from Ada. The zombie stumbled back a few steps, and she blew his atrophied brains out.

"Hey, Leon," Luis called, "I found another one of those brown trunks."

Leon groaned silently and went into the room on the right of the hallway. "Everybody in here," he said abruptly, waiting until they were all inside to close the door. For some reason, he'd never been attacked in one of these rooms. It had always been a good place to regroup, and check his inventory.

He opened the trunk and found a map of the place, along with some acid rounds. He shook his head and opened the map. "There's was an elevator that _should_ lead to a helipad," he announced, passing it around. "If not, we're all going to be in trouble when that Tyrant catches up with us. I want you all to reload your weapons, and keep the most powerful ones handy."

He handed the acid rounds to Jack. "There's only six of them, so save them for something big."

Jack grunted at that. "Those Tyrant things looked pretty damn big to me," he said neutrally.

"Yeah, but I plan for us to be out of here before it catches up to us." Leon reloaded the Killer 7, and stuffed the last bit of his .50 caliber bullets into the Handcannon. He dug out his only clip for the TMP and gave it to Jack. "Luis, do you want more shells?"

The Spaniard ran his hand through his uneven black hair. "_Si_, Leon. I'd appreciate that."

Leon gestured for Sherry to give the other man ammo, and she complied silently. The silence bothered him, but he understood. The guy she loved was dying, and she was doing her best to deal with it. Once Steve was gone though, he fully expected her to lose it. Especially, considering how he planned to die.

"H-Here." Steve struggled out of Leon's leather jacket and handed it back to him. When Leon shook his head negatively, the kid tossed it at his feet, dropping the Striker on top of it. "Take it, Leon. I can't see well enough to shoot anymore, and you're going to need it to keep Sher safe."

She met his gaze and sent him a wobbly smile. "You're all heart, Burnside."

His answering smile crooked. "You know it, babe."

Jack scooped up the Striker and the jacket before anyone could protest. "I'll take the gun, Leon. The jacket you can have back. It's too small for me."

Leon caught it as it was thrown to him, emptying the pockets and distributing the remaining ammunition among them. He tossed the jacket onto the trunk and turned away. The bloodstain on the fur collar only reminded him of how he had failed to protect the boy that his daughter and his wife both loved. He didn't want anything to do with it.

The door opened, and he whirled around, both guns raised. "Chris?"

"Leon?" Chris and the rest of Alpha Team crowded into the small room, all looking ragged and tired. "When did you get here?"

"Not too long ago." Leon watched as Luis and Sherry both sidled closer to Steve, taking a defensive stance, their guns only partially lowered. "We've got a Tyrant running loose back there, and we're heading to the helipad now."

Claire's cerulean eyes were fastened on Steve, horror showing in their bright depths. "What the hell happened?" she demanded, whirling around to nail Leon with a lethal glare. "Why does Steve look like he's on the verge of turning into a damn zombie?"

"Probably, because he is," Leon replied in a quiet voice.

"What?" She rushed to him, only to have him push her away. "Steve, what's wrong?"

Steve shook his head weakly, his hand finding and clasping Sherry's. "We don't have time for this," he rasped. "We have to get to the roof. Jack?"

"I've got you, kid." Jack shouldered him and looked to Leon. "Who are they, Kennedy?"

"Jack Carver, meet S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team." Leon rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, briefly shutting out the sight of Claire's accusing gaze. "They're Umbrella survivors, Jack. They can be trusted."

Jack grunted in response. "Then, let's get the hell out of here. I don't want to run into that Tyrant if I can avoid it."

"Damn it!" Chris swore. "That's all we need right now."

Leon turned to him with grim understanding. "We found a map of this place in the trunk, if you—"

"We know where we are," Jill cut in, her voice quiet. "This is the lab that was below the Spencer Mansion."

"Were you the ones that turned on the power?" Billy asked.

"Sherry did," Leon said with a proud nod in her direction. "That's the way we came in."

"Did the elevator require a key card to access it before?" Luis asked, remembering the red card he and Sherry had found upstairs.

"No," Rebecca responded, her voice soft. "We just had to restore the power to it."

"We're good then," Carlos told her with a wink, laughing as Billy glowered at him.

Chris nodded curtly as he reloaded his shotgun. "That key you gave me has worked on every lock we've come across," he said almost idly.

"I'm glad." Leon watched him for a long moment before shooting his team a glance. "Luis, you're with me. Jack-"

"Watch our backs," the other man finished for him. "I've got it, Leon. Let's just go."

Leon drummed up a smile for Rebecca, nodding at Carlos, and led his team from the room. He heard Claire and Chris talking as they followed, and relief surged through him. Without Chris, Steve's plan would never work. As much as he hated to use the man that way, he was determined to win he and Sherry's freedom, even if had to lose Claire forever to do it.

He turned right at the end of the hallway and climbed the stairs. Dead bodies lay littered on the around the area, most of which were missing their heads. Leon allowed himself a very smile, very nasty smile as he stepped past them. They should have stayed dead in the first place!

He took a left and waited at for S.T.A.R.S.. "Which way?" he asked Chris, gesturing to the door on his right.

"That way." Chris pointed to a point beyond the stairs. "There's a ladder that leads to the elevator."

Leon nodded and turned away, signaling for the others to fall in behind him. Luis was watching the dead zombies uneasily, and Leon couldn't blame him. The Spaniard wasn't the only one expecting a superfast, extremely vicious Crimson Head to be in the bunch.

He was pleasantly surprised when they made it to the ladder without being attacked. He grasped the first rung and hesitated. "Jack, I'll reach for Steve when I get to the top. Alright?"

"He'll be ready," the hard-faced man assured him.

Leon climbed the ladder, carefully searching the hallway, before turning around. Steve was clutching feebly at one of the rungs, his other hand outstretched towards him. Leon grasped his hand and began to pull. The young man suddenly shot towards him, and he pulled him to safety. Leon kept him upright as he waited for the others, afraid that if the kid sat down, he wouldn't get up again.

Sherry joined them, sliding one arm around her lover's waist. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah," he answered in an obvious lie. He lowered his face to her hair for a long moment before pulling away. He looked up as Jack and Luis approached, his expression somber. "Just get me to the roof. I'll do the rest."

The newcomer looked at him intently, while Luis only nodded. He didn't ask the obvious question, suddenly sure that he didn't want to know. He just grabbed the kid to support him, and hoped that he didn't change while _he_ was holding him.

Leon watched with a closed expression as S.T.A.R.S. joined them. Without uttering a word, he turned and led them all down the wide hallway. He turned right at the end, and nearly wept with relief as he saw the elevator. There was an electronic card reader to the left of the doors, and he took the card key out of his vest and slid it through. He jabbed the button below it, his impatience barely leashed. He wanted out of this fucking place!

He kept his guns trained on the doors as the elevator stopped. They slid open, revealing an empty compartment, and he stepped inside. His unit—his family—crowded around him, leaving S.T.A.R.S. on the other side of the elevator. He sighed, frowning at them, and Sherry stuck out her tongue. He smiled despite himself, shaking his tawny head at her antics. He knew she was dealing with a lot right now, and he certainly wasn't going to come down on her for acting immature. It was nice to see that eight years in captivity, at the mercy of Albert Wesker and Ada Wong, hadn't completely destroyed the little girl in her.

The elevator came to stop, the doors slid open to reveal the helipad. They all stepped onto the concrete, Chris, Jill, and Rebecca looking particularly tense. Leon realized that this was where they had fought the first Umbrella Tyrant together, nearly dying before Brad Vickers had thrown them a rocket launcher from the rescue chopper.

Chris approached the signal rocket and knelt beside it. "This is wrong," he said with a frown. "It's set in a fixed position, and bolted to the ground. It looks like we need some kind of valve or something to use it."

No one questioned his intention to use the signal rocket when there was no helicopter present. It was what they had done before, and there was no where left to go. If this didn't attract somebody's—anybody's—attention, they were probably going to die in this place.

Leon crouched next to him, smiling as he observed the square-shaped hole. "Sherry, bring me that crank!"

"Yes, Sir!" She pulled the crank out of her vest and handed it to him. "I knew there was a reason we hung on to that," she said with a small smile.

He connected the crank and turned it rapidly. A pane on the side of the outer case slid open to reveal a button. He pushed it and stepped back, watching as a rocket was launched into the twilight sky. If that didn't get Wesker's attention, nothing would, he thought with satisfaction.

He turned back to his daughter and set a hand on her shoulder. "Go back to Steve and stay with him," he told her gently. "He'll want you there, at the end."

She looked at him with gratitude before running to the north end of the helipad. He watched as she knelt beside the man that she loved and renewed his determination. He looked away, and found himself staring directly into Chris' midnight eyes.

"What happened to him, Leon?"

"He was attacked by one of those superfast zombies." He shrugged helplessly. "There was nothing anyone could do."

"I thought that he'd be immune, considering. . ." Chris let his voice trail off, not wanting to upset his sister, who was listening to every word.

"He thought he was immune, too. You were both wrong."

"Who's the newbie?" Carlos asked as he approached, gesturing towards Jack with the Chicago Typewriter. "Is he a friend of yours?"

"Just someone I met in South America a few years back," Leon answered. "He's a pilot, formerly of the Navy. He's been carrying Steve since he joined us, keeping him safe despite his obvious condition. He's a damned fine soldier, and a friend."

Billy laughed grimly at the warning in his tone. "We kind of figured that out already, Kennedy." He shook Leon's hand firmly. "I know this isn't exactly the other side, but it's still good to see that you made it this far."

"You too, Billy." Leon ducked his head, his eyes straying back to Burnside. Jack had risen from his place beside him, his eyes turning that strange, glowing shade of orange that Leon meant knew trouble.

"What is it, Jack?" he asked, ignoring the gasps from those who hadn't seen Jack Carver in animal mode.

"There's something coming," the other man replied, his voice deepening to a bestial growl. "It's not a zombie, and it's not one of those Regenerator things we fought before."

"Is it the Tyrant?" Leon asked quickly, looking towards the elevator.

Jack shook his head as he used his feral smell. "No, it's got a different scent than what was in those tubes downstairs. It's almost human, but not quite. I can't describe it any better than that."

_Wesker._ Leon rushed to Steve, who was lying in Sherry's arms, his eyes just beginning to turn white. "Wesker's coming," he informed him abruptly. "Can you hang on a few seconds longer?"

"Yes," came the deep, low snarl. He looked up at Sherry and managed one last smile. "I love you, Sher. Don't ever forget that."

"I won't," she promised him, her blue eyes shimmering with tears. "I love you too, Steve."

A tall, broad-shouldered man with blond hair jumped onto the helipad, seemingly from nowhere. "Ah, Chris," his crisp, cultured voice rang out mockingly, "just the person I was hoping to see."

The hatred in his voice was as apparent as his madness as Albert Wesker, one-time leader of S.T.A.R.S. and betrayer of the same, leapt at his former comrades. S.T.A.R.S. began shooting him, all guns blazing. He paid them no heed, the bullet wounds healing as quickly as they were formed, as he grabbed Chris Redfield by neck and lifted him off the ground.

At Leon's side, Steve's body stiffened, then went still with one last, rattling breath. Leon grabbed Sherry's arm and moved her away from what had once been Steve Burnside. He dragged her to the opposite end of the helipad, desperately digging in his attaché case for the rocket launcher. He signaled for Luis and Jack to join him, setting the rocket launcher on his right shoulder.

"Stay down, and keep out of the way," he told them as they crouched beside. "Luis, take care of Sherry. I've got Wesker."

The Spaniard set a hand on his shoulder briefly. "Good luck, Leon."

Leon couldn't respond as he watched with awe and horror as he once again watched Steve Burnside change into a Tyrant. This time, it was different. The Tyrant retained enough humanity to roar Wesker's name, but the sound was mixed with the groan-like quality that always signaled the undead. Steve wasn't just a zombie, or a T-Veronica Tyrant. He was a deadly combination of both, and all of his fury was centered on the man who had resurrected him against his will, and held him prisoner for eight long years.

Albert Wesker turned towards the sound, dropping the man he had been in the process of choking to death. Chris' face was red from lack of oxygen as he scrambled backwards, but he paid him no heed. All of his attention was focused on the creatures now making its way towards him. The red hair marked it as Steve Burnside, the purplish skin as the boy's Tyrant form. His eyes had gone completely white, a bloody wound on his shoulder showing where he had been bitten by one of the many zombies littering this grueling gauntlet.

"My, you certainly turned out well," he said in a proud, almost parental tone of voice. "You've exceeded all of my hopes for you, Steve. A beautiful, unstoppable bioweapon—of my own creation."

He whipped off the ever-present black sunglasses to reveal fire-red eyes. He glanced over his shoulder at Chris, who was even now training a gun on him, and laughed. "Kill Chris Redfield," he ordered abruptly. "And his sister, Claire, as well."

"You son of a bitch!" Chris shouted, pulling the trigger.

The Tyrant didn't respond, its whitened eyes narrowing on _him_, and Wesker felt the first stirrings of unease. "I order you to kill him, Steve!"

The Tyrant roared again, with that same disturbing quality that Leon had earlier noted, and Wesker realized that he couldn't control his creation. "Fine," he said with a mock sigh. "You were always a disappointment, anyway."

Leon watched as Wesker rushed forward, throwing a thrust-punch into Steve's stomach. The decaying skin gave way, and then began to heal around the hand inside of it. Wesker's eyes widened as he struggled to pull back, and found himself trapped. Leon took steady aim with the rocket launcher, uttering a prayer to a god none of them believed in, and pulled the trigger.

The rocket shot towards them, hitting them with a blinding flash. The force of the explosion knocked them off of the helipad, and Leon rushed to keep Sherry from following as she screamed Steve's name. Luis reached her first, cursing in Spanish as he tackled her to the pavement. She fought him, but he paid her no heed, merely jerked her to her feet and dragged her back to Leon.

"_Dios!_" he exclaimed, his admiration evident. "She's a wildcat, that one!"

Leon held her as she collapsed against him. He ran a comforting hand over her back as he met Jack's gaze. "Make sure he's dead."

Jack nodded and sprinted to the edge of the heliport. "The blond's toast," he called out. "He's still on fire, and he's not moving."

Leon didn't ask about Steve, not wanting to know. "Thanks," was all he said, hugging his daughter tighter. She sobbed against him, and his heart broke with hers.

Chris approached him slowly, his expression dazed. "Is Wesker really dead?" he asked with disbelief.

"Just call him the not-so-human torch," Jack supplied, grinning hugely.

Jill approached next, sliding her hand in her lover's. "It was no less than he deserved," she stated coldly.

Rebecca nodded as she removed her stained green headband. "It's finally over, then."

Leon stiffened, remembering the last time he heard that. On the train, right before William Birkin had attacked them and set off the train's biohazard alarms. He glanced at Claire, whose arms were wrapped around her middle, as she gazed over the edge of the helipad. She was crying, and Leon averted his head. He hated seeing a woman cry, and Claire more than most.

He concentrated on the girl who cried in his arms, murmuring comforting nonsense, as he waited for something to happen. He had no idea where they truly were, or even what country they were in. They were all exhausted, both physically and emotionally, but what they had endured. They needed food and rest, as well as time to grieve for those who had fallen.

Chris' radio crackled, and he brought it to his lips. "This is Captain Chris Redfield of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team," he said into it with a frown. "We are trapped at the top of a mansion, I don't know where. If you saw our flare, lock onto this signal and send help."

"_Captain Redfield, my name is Ingrid Hunnigan. Is Leon Kennedy with you?"_

"Yes," he answered abruptly, handing the radio to Leon.

Leon took it with the first stirrings of hope. "Hey, Hunnigan," he greeted cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

"_I got a visit from a woman in a red dress, Leon. She said you were in trouble, and gave me these coordinates."_

Leon's lips thinned at her words. "Yeah, we've had a little trouble here," he said in a vast understatement. "We could use a lift."

"_Good, because I had to call in a favor and steal a chopper to do this, so you owe me."_

"Shit." A smile spread across his face, despite the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Then, come on down, Hunnigan. We'll be waiting."

He handed the radio back to Chris. "Ingrid Hunnigan was my intel officer during the Las Plagas incident," he said in response to the other man's suspicious look. "I guess Ada paid her a visit, too."

Jack's bored expression changed at that. "Great mental picture," he said, his gravelly voice turning salacious. "Is she cute?"

Leon laughed at that. "Quit thinking with your dick, Jack."

"You should know me better that, Leon. It's never gonna happen." Jack looked up as he heard something they didn't. "The chopper's coming in from the east. Looks like we're almost out of here."

Sherry stirred against him, and Leon drew back just enough to look down at her. "You hear that, honey?" he asked gently. "Help is on the way."

She nodded, avoiding his gaze as she wiped her face with her sleeves. "Where are we going to go?" she asked, her voice husky.

Leon blinked as he realized that he didn't know. They'd both spent eight years as virtual prisoners. He couldn't go back to work for the government, knowing what he knew now. Not that he would have anyway. Ada's presence in his life had been enough to make him dislike it. Being separated from Sherry and Claire had caused him to hate it with a passion that few believed him capable of.

"I've got some money saved up," he said finally, shrugging a little. "We'll grab a room somewhere, and decide what to do next. Unless, you had another idea?"

"No, that'll work." Sherry managed a weak smile, including Luis and Jack in its warmth. "What about you guys?"

Luis' pale gaze moved to Leon. "I thought I'd stick with you, cop. I died two years ago, remember?" he added. "That's going to make it hard to find a job."

Leon nodded. "We'll figure something out, Luis. I still have plenty of contacts. We'll find a way fix the whole dead thing for you."

"_Gracias, mi amigo_."

Jack frowned at them, but again, he didn't ask the obvious question. Knowledge wasn't power, it was a pain in the ass. "I'm in debt up to my ass," he offered unapologetically. "Since my boat got blown up in Jacutan, I've kind of been out of work, myself. You got room for another broke friend?"

"Always," Leon said simply.

"And no," Jack added with a grin, "that one _wasn't_ worth it."

Leon chuckled a little as the sound of the helicopter grew louder. "We'd better move and give Hunnigan a place to set that baby down!" he yelled.

The all crowded around the elevator, giving the sleek black chopper room to set down. Hunnigan appeared in the open side, waving them forward with a smile. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail that whipped in the winds created by the helicopter's blades, her wire-rim glasses firmly in place. Jack was the first to rush towards the chopper, and Leon shook his head as he followed.

He helped Sherry climb on board, Luis right on her heels. He turned to find Jill standing behind him, and he extended his hand. She laughed, the sound drowned out by the chopper, as she allowed him to help her aboard. Rebecca came next, her smile as sweet as always. Claire came next, her tear-reddened blue eyes meeting his briefly, and then she was gone. He waited until Chris, Billy, and Carlos were aboard to join them.

"Shit." Jack shook his head as he heard something out of place. "Hold on! I'll be right back!"

"Jack!" Leon jumped down and followed him as he ran to the blackened section of the helipad. "What is it?" he asked, yelling to be heard above the helicopter's blades.

Jack pointed at the ground below them. "He twitched, Kennedy. The blond's not dead! He's fucking _moving!"_

Leon's eyes widened at his words. "I'll go down and take care of him!" he told the other man. "Get back on the chopper and get the others to safety!"

"Hell, no! You're not going anywhere!" Jack punched him in the stomach, dropping him like a stone, his hands turning into claws as he leapt from the two-story building. "Just don't forget to come back for me!"

"Jack!" Leon pushed himself to his feet and ran after him, watching with a combination of disbelief and shock as he managed to use the window sills to slow down his momentum. He swung from one to the other, his claws digging into the side of the mansion when needed. He landed on the ground just as Wesker began to rise to his feet, and immediately went for his throat.

"Holy shit!" Leon heard a roar behind him, and quickly whirled around. The Tyrant that he had been hoping to avoid was stepping out of the elevator. It was classic Umbrella, with pasty white skin, a huge claw in place of a right hand, and red reptilian eyes. He cursed and drew the Handcannon, praying it would be enough, knowing that it wouldn't. He still had a few rockets in his attaché case, but it was on the chopper.

"Leon!" Chris and Billy were running towards him, already shooting at the creature as it charged.

Leon dove to his left, hissing in pain as the Tyrant slashed a quintet of wounds across his abdomen. He hit the ground hard, and scrambled back to his feet, clutching his mid-section with his left hand. He raised the Handcannon with his right and fired into the monster's back. It stopped in mid-lunge and turned, it's red eyes fastened on him. Leon continued to fire, drawing its attention away from Chris, who was struggling with the linear launcher.

It came at him with blinding speed, and Leon did his best to run around it. He turned, firing as he backed away, towards the helicopter which hovered just above them. He waved them away, not wanting the explosion to damage the vehicle. The Tyrant roared again, this time with frustration, as Billy drew it to the opposite side of the helipad.

"Coen!" he yelled. "Over here!"

Billy feinted left, then ran around the B.O.W.'s right side. "Damn, that thing's fast," he panted.

Leon pointed at Chris, who was taking aim with the launcher. The locket shot forward with a plume of smoke. The Tyrant saw it and raised its hand to knock the rocket aside. Leon and Billy both fired at it, claiming its attention for the split second necessary for the rocket to hit home. The Tyrant exploded in a blinding flash of light and fire, blackened body parts falling in a macabre rainfall.

Chris put the launcher away and jogged over to him. "Let's go!" he shouted, pulling Leon's arm over his shoulders and dragging him to the chopper as it touched back down.

Billy hopped on board and grasped Leon under the arms, helping him into the vehicle. He found himself flat on his back, Rebecca, Sherry, and Jill all hovering over him. He blinked, a faint frown pulling his brows together. "I'm fine," he told them, cursing as his shout came out as a whisper.

"Leon!"

Leon took Sherry's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Her eyes were red with tears as she managed a wobbly smile and clung to him, her hand nearly crushing his. "Where's Jack?"

She leaned down, and he repeated the question. Her eyes widened, as though she'd forgotten him. Her gaze shot to the open side of the helicopter just as the man in question leapt aboard. His Hawaiian shirt was hanging open, bruises liberally scattered across his chest. His olive vest hung from his hands like a bag, a round shape filling it out, a reddish stain spreading out around it. Leon shot him a questioning look, and the other man grinned.

"The kid said that you wanted the blond's head!" Jack yelled, giving the bag a little shake. "You still want it?"

Leon shook his head as he began to laugh, flipping the other man off. He watched Jack toss the vest out the side and let his head fall back. He felt the chopper move higher into the air, smiling at Rebecca as she bandaged him up, and breathed a short-lived sigh of relief. All too soon, Hunnigan was leaning over the co-pilot's seat, her dark blue eyes wide.

"We've got a incoming missile!" she shouted. "It looks like a nuke!"

He dragged himself into a sitting position, then onto the seat behind her. "Is it aimed at us?"

She shook her head negatively. "It's headed straight for the island we just left."

"Can we outrun the blast?" Leon watched as she glanced at the pilot, whoes eyes were huge even as he nodded. "Go, then!"

He turned back to the others with a grim expression. "The gauntlet's being bombed!" he shouted. "Grab ahold of something!"

Everyone found a handhold as the rocket whizzed past them. They all watched with bated breath as it became smaller and smaller, finally disappearing from sight. Leon knew that it would hover over the area as it detonated, and he realized that Jill did too. She and Carlos had personally witnessed the destruction of Raccoon City from another, very similar helicopter. He watched them trade a glance, their expressions anxious, as the effects of the bomb's explosion made themselves known.

The resulting shockwave spread out with a blinding flash of light before it mushroomed in all directions. The chopper began to shake, gently at first, then more violently. It tilted slightly to one side, then the other, rocking in a terrifying motion.

Suddenly, the chopper righted itself, and Leon slumped against the seat in relief. Now, it was over. He holstered the weapon he hadn't been aware of drawing for the last time, and smiled at Sherry. They had survived, Wesker was dead, and they had their freedom. The cost had been high. He had lost one of his own, and so had S.T.A.R.S.. But they had survived, and now they had to move on. For the first time in eight years, he felt that he would be able to. He had. . .hope.

* * *

**Author's Note II: **I realize that Wesker wasn't the boss-fight most people expected, but as this is Leon's story and not Chris', I'm saving it for another story, one which won't require a massive rewrite to include RE5 and it's Weskerific boss fight. So, don't be too disappointed. I'll make up for it in **Resident Evil **:)


	7. Home

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters in the work below. If I did, RE4 would have had zombies instead of bugs!

**Synopsis:** T-virus, G-virus, T-Veronica virus, Las Plagas. . .you get the drift.

**Author's Note:** Here it is, the last chapter of my not-so-epic tale=). This was my first attempt at writing Leon, and it's still my favorite version of him. I hope you liked it, as well. Now, on with the show!

* * *

**Resident Evil: The Gauntlet**

Chapter Seven: Home

Leon was jerked awake by the sound of a gunshot. As his frantic gaze searched the corners of the darkened room, he realized that it was only another nightmare. He had fallen asleep on the couch, again. He swiped at his eyes and reached for the pack of cigarettes lying on the coffee table. He lit one and took a deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs before finally releasing it. He knew that smoking was supposed to bad for him, but fuck it. He had no intention of giving it up. He'd take whatever crutches he could find, so long as they helped him deal with the fucking pain.

He poured a drink from the bottle sitting open on the table and downed it in one gulp. Another bad habit, one that he worked hard to control. He had to be careful with any kind narcotic or downer, and alcohol was no exception. His body had taken quite a beating, and it needed time to recover. His early retirement was something he welcomed, but it had its drawbacks. It gave him way too much time to think, and time to find ways _not_ to. The little man with the jackhammer that was currently pounding away inside of his head was one of the reasons he usually _didn't_ drink much.

Coen had been right, Leon thought, sighing deeply. Gaining his freedom hadn't stopped the nightmares, or the depression. If anything, they had both worsened. Now instead of just Claire, he had Barry and Steve crawling through his head, taking their revenge for his failure to protect them. Logically, he knew that it was only his conscience wreaking havoc with him. It still didn't stop the nightmares, or the guilt that was his constant companion.

Leon glanced at the cloak and groaned. It was three in the morning, and he had five hours before he went to the S.T.A.R.S. office for his physical. He hadn't been asked to join Alpha Team, but Chris had known that he couldn't go to any ordinary doctor, not with the government still angry over Wesker's loss. Leon couldn't trust them, so Chris had offered Rebecca's services as Alpha Team's medic. His first test had come back negative, but he'd put off the return visit for nearly three months, and he really needed to go in and make sure that damned Tyrant hadn't infected him. It didn't matter that he was supposed to be immune; After all, Steve had been, too.

He dragged himself up to his bedroom and into the adjoining bath. He took a shower and two aspirin, hoping the banging in his head would at least lower in volume. He threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and went back downstairs. He quietly let himself out of the house he'd bought, pausing as he saw Luis sitting on the porch.

"Hey," he greeted, taking a seat in one the lawn chairs.

Luis nodded at him from across the small table. "Couldn't sleep, eh?"

Leon merely shrugged, only grateful that he hadn't woke up screaming tonight. "What about you?" he asked.

"The same." The Spaniard lit a cigarette, the tip glowing in the darkness. "Sherry went right back to sleep, and she seemed peaceful. I didn't want to wake her, so I came out here."

Sherry had had nightmares since they'd returned, Steve's name on her lips as she woke. About five weeks after they'd settled here, he'd woken to her screams and ran to her room, only to withdraw when he saw that Luis had beaten him to it. They'd been nearly inseparable ever since, and Leon hadn't said a word. Sherry was a grown woman, and she seemed happy with the Spanish man. He wasn't going to ruin that for her by playing the part of the overprotective father. She deserved better than that, and so did Luis.

"She's going to give you hell when she smells the smoke on you," Leon pointed out as he lit his own. "You know how much she hates living with three smokers."

"_Si_." Luis smiled briefly before looking away. "Are you sure you're okay with this, Leon?"

Leon's own smile was crooked. "You make her happy, Luis. I can't ask for more than that."

The Spaniard stared off into the distance. "I was married once," he said abruptly, taking a long drag off the cigarette. "There was an Umbrella chemical plant just off of the coast of Portugal, on this little island that was nearly uninhabitable. I remember how we all laughed when they bought it, sure that they'd made a horrible deal. Then, the rumors started, and I was sent in undercover as an Umbrella researcher."

He paused to take another drag, and Leon kept his mouth shut. "To make it look real, my wife and my son were sent there with me. She took a job as a secretary in the island's main office. There was another 'incident', this time due to an attack on the facility."

Leon drew a sharp breath as he remembered the file he'd seen on the Rockfort Island incident. "Wesker?" he questioned in a low voice.

"Probably. He was certainly our main suspect." Luis shifted in his chair, running a hand through his short black hair. "I ran home during the attack, only to find Manuel near death, crushed beneath the remains of the house. I couldn't find Helena. I tried to get help, but those damn zombies were everywhere. I managed to drag my boy to a house up the street, one that hadn't been destroyed in the attack."

Leon winced as he imagined what had happened next. "The house wasn't empty," he stated flatly.

"No, it wasn't." Luis crushed the cigarette out in the ashtray with an angry motion. "I had the Red 9—I'd grabbed it before I went for help—but there seven of them in there. I killed all of them, thinking that my child might survive, if I could just find a damn doctor."

"He died before I could even leave to look, within seconds of the others," he continued, his voice hoarse. "Wesker must have hit the chemical plant first, because the T-virus had already infected the citizens of—"

He broke off, rubbing his arms as though cold. "I had to kill my son, Leon. Even though he had just died in my arms, I had to put a bullet in his head, because he turned into one those things."

"I'm sorry," Leon told him inadequately.

Luis just nodded, his expression harsh. "I buried him in the back yard, and went looking for my wife. The main office was completely destroyed, nothing left but rubble. I thought she was dead, too."

Leon looked away. "I take it she wasn't?"

"Oh, no. Not my Helena." The Spaniard's eyes narrowed. "I caught sight of her coming out of the chemical plant, a sample of the T-virus in one pretty little hand, and a gun in the other. Apparently, she'd made some kind of deal with one of the Umbrella supervisors. He had a helicopter waiting to take her off of the island."

"She left my son alone. She saw how badly he was injured, and she left him there to die alone." Luis crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head slightly. "I couldn't let her get away with that, Leon. I couldn't."

"What did you do?" Leon asked with dread.

"Not what you're thinking, cop." Luis smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant sight. "I disarmed her, and left her there to fend for herself. The streets were crawling with zombies. I doubt she even got close to that chopper."

Leon hid a wince at the satisfaction in the other man's voice. "How did you get off the island?" he asked at length.

"I stole a boat at the marina," Luis answered with another shrug. "When I went back to Madrid, I told my superiors what I had witnessed. But I had no proof of what Umbrella had really been doing in that plant. I was put on leave, and the island was 'destroyed' when the chemical plant exploded the next day."

He laughed, the sound bitter. "When I came back, I saw a sample of the T-virus in the lab, and I immediately requested a transfer. Told them I couldn't carry a gun anymore, that my nerves were shot. That's when I met Ada," he added, shrugging his thin shoulders. "She said that the U.S. government knew what Umbrella was up to, but couldn't prove it. Then, she told me about the Los Illuminados being resurrected, and asked if I would like to help the people in my hometown by going in as a researcher again. I accepted," he finished simply. "The rest, you know."

Leon put his cigarette out and rested his elbows on the table. "Have you told Sherry any of this?"

"No," Luis replied with a heavy sigh. "This thing between us. . .it's not going to last. She doesn't love me, Leon. She still loves Steve," he added awkwardly.

"And she probably always will," Leon said with a frown, "but he's dead, Luis. Eventually, she'll get over him. When she does—"

"Like you got over Claire Redfield?" the Spaniard cut in the with first signs of anger. "No, _mi amigo_. I'll take what she gives me gladly, but I will not bear my soul to her. I do not want the woman's pity."

Leon listened to him and heard echoes of his own conversation with Billy Coen back on Antarctica. "Yeah, I know how you feel," he said finally. "Billy noticed how depressed I was after we found Steve, and he called me on it once we were alone. He told me to get some help, to talk to someone, and I told him that I didn't want anyone's pity. Especially Claire's."

"_Si, _you understand, then." Luis sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "So, do you want company when you go to see S.T.A.R.S. today?"

"Not really." Leon leaned back against the house, closing his eyes briefly. "I don't think Sherry's ready for that, and where you go, she goes."

"What about Jack?" the other man asked. "He's getting bored just twiddling his thumbs, waiting for all of the supplies to come in."

Leon smiled at that. He and Jack had decided to start their own security business, and had just ordered the first of their electronics supplies. Not to mention, the small plane that would help them service out-of-state clients. That's what was really driving Jack Carver crazy. He might take the boat Leon had bought out every day to fish, but what he really wanted was to be up in the air again.

"He'll live," a voice said dryly from behind him. He looked up to see Sherry standing in the doorway, wearing his old R.P.D. sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. "What are you two still doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," Leon told her, shooting Luis a grin as they both hid their cigarette packs.

"Smoking, I'll bet." Sherry arched a blond brow and went to sit on Luis' lap. She lowered her nose to his hair and said, "Yep. You are so busted."

He shrugged and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close. "It is the only vice I have, _nena._"

"What, I don't count?" she asked him teasingly.

He made an exasperated sound and looked up at her. "You are not a vice, Sherry. Though I could always be wrong about that," he added under his breath.

She laughed and laid her chin on top of his head. "Jerk," she said with obvious affection. Her eyes met Leon's and the troubled look in their pale depths told him that she had heard Luis' tale. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. She might still be grieving for Steve Burnside, but she had real feelings for Luis. Now, all she would have to do was convince him of that.

She tilted her head to one side. "Are you okay, Dad?" she asked, her concern obvious.

He nodded slowly, realizing that she had heard _everything._ "I will be, honey. Once I get back to work, things will get better," he assured her. "I'm just not used to having all of this free time. It's kind of freaking me out."

Sherry merely nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of Luis' head. "Isn't your appointment with Rebecca today?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered with a sigh. "I suppose you want to go?"

"Only if Luis here goes with us," she returned, ruffling his hair with her fingers. "What do you say, hick?"

Luis looked up at her, his lips thinning with mock displeasure. "_Mujer, _I am not a hick," he told her with a stern frown.

She snorted and slid from his lap, taking his hand and tugging until he rose to his feet. "Come on, hick. We have to be up in a few hours."

"My appointment's not until eight," Leon pointed out, adding, "And I don't need a babysitter, honey. I'll be fine on my own."

"Yeah, but I was hoping you'd cook breakfast," she said, pausing to press a kiss to his cheek. "Are you sure you don't want someone to go with you?"

He nodded, relieved that she was willing to relent so easily. "I'm sure, Sherry."

"Okay." She sent him a smile as she straightened. "Good night, Leon. Try to get some sleep."

"I will," he lied, returning her smile.

The door closed behind them, and the smile disappeared. He knew that he wouldn't sleep again tonight. He'd never been able to go back to sleep after a nightmare. Even when he'd been with Claire, it had been the same. More often than not, he'd spent the rest of the night curled around her, watching her as _she_ slept, wondering what he'd done to deserve her.

Leon's smile returned at the memory. She'd always insisted on talking about the dreams, as though that would help them both deal with them better. It had helped, just not as she'd hoped. It had always kept the images fresh in his mind, making further sleep impossible. But he'd learned to function on two or three hours of sleep, and it had given him more time with Claire.

He still missed her terribly. She lived not more than ten miles away, and he never saw her. Billy and Rebecca had stopped by twice already. Hell, even Carlos had popped in, just to see how a secret agent really lived, he'd said. But Chris, Jill, and Claire had stayed away. Sure, Chris had called to confirm his appointment with Rebecca, but he'd hung up as soon as he could. Leon Kennedy was _persona non grada_ with the Redfield's, and he probably always would be.

Not that Leon blamed them. He didn't. After all, Barry Burton had died because of him. It didn't matter that Wesker hated them all, and had probably killed Barry himself. Ada had set up that damned test to give _Leon_ his freedom, and that made him culpable.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on relaxing his muscles. It was hard, with all the thoughts that were circling crazily through his mind, but he'd spent years perfecting this. Besides, if he was going to be out here for the next few hours, he might as well try to get comfortable.

* * *

"So, Leon," Rebecca asked as the examination room door closed behind her junior medical assistant, "How have you really been?"

"I'm doing better," Leon responded with a small smile. True to his word, Billy had told Rebecca about his depression. But he couldn't be angry. Rebecca was one of those rare people you could truly trust with your secrets. "Our first shipment should be coming in any day now, and I think we're going to get the land for the airstrip fairly cheap."

"Leon S. Kennedy, security specialist." She checked the three wounds on his abdomen one last time. "These really are healing well, Leon. Have you given any more thought to having a plastic surgeon look at them?"

He shook his head negatively. "I'm fine with the scars, Becca. They don't bother me."

She nodded as she turned away, retrieving a capsule from a nearby tray. "Okay, we should have your test results ready in a few days." She saw him cringe and felt a jolt of sympathy. "I can understand why you're worried, but I really don't think you're infected, Leon. Your wounds are healing at a normal rate, and Sherry says that you're not showing any of the signs that Steve did."

Leon nodded, his smile dimming at the mention of Steve Burnside. "You're one of the few people she trusts, you know," he told her, still surprised by how quickly Sherry and Rebecca seemed to have bonded.

She blushed a little at his words, slipping the capsule in her pocket. "She's a nice girl, Leon, once you get past her guard. With everything she's been through, it really surprised me."

"She's a survivor," he said simply, his pride in her obvious.

Rebecca smiled at that. "Aren't we all?"

Leon avoided her gaze as he pulled his shirt over his head and combed his fingers through his hair. He hopped off the table, reaching for his jacket. It was made of plain black leather, with a detachable lining so it could be worn year round. Sherry had helped him pick it out, rejecting the more conservative coats he would have chosen. It made him look like he should be on a motorcycle, but it _was_ comfortable.

"Why don't you come over this weekend?" Rebecca asked suddenly. His head jerked up, and she explained, "Billy bought a new grill, and he's dying to try it out. He says he needs a test subject who's not so biased in his favor."

Leon chuckled at that. "Should I bring anything?"

"Just your family." She paused, her green eyes narrowing slightly. "Ask Jack not to flirt with me so much. Billy nearly hit him the last time we visited you."

"I know." Leon shrugged as he opened the door for her. "I'll talk to him, but that's just the way that Jack is. Sherry's the only woman I _haven't_ seen him hit on, and I don't know if it's because he's afraid of me, Luis, or _her_."

Rebecca laughed as they entered the hall. "No offense, but I'd put my money on her."

"None taken," he returned with a grin. "I'm well aware of my daughter's temper."

"I know. She kind of reminds me of Cl—" Rebecca bit her lip as she looked away. "I'm sorry, Leon. I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright," Leon told her gently. "I've noticed the similarities, myself."

Rebecca nodded, tucking her light brown hair behind her ears. "Have you talked to her at all?"

He shook his head negatively, his blue eyes dark. "I was hoping she'd call," he admitted in a quiet voice. "For Sherry's sake, if nothing else."

Rebecca sighed. "I don't know what's going on with her, Leon. She never talks to me anymore. She spends all of her time with Chris and Jill, or off on her own. She's more closed off than _you_ are," she added worriedly.

Leon flinched as guilt flooded over him. "She's grieving, Becca. Give her time."

"We're all grieving," she said in return, her youthful features reflecting her own sorrow as she laid a hand on his arm. "None of this was your fault, Leon. Wesker would have come after us, eventually."

He ducked his head, taking refuge behind his hair. "Barry might still be alive if I'd hidden my depression better," he said in a low voice. "If Ada hadn't noticed—"

"No." Rebecca shook her head, her expression stubborn. "Chris blames himself for Barry too, and it's wrong."

"Why?" Leon asked with surprise. "None of this was his fault."

"Because he didn't warn him," Rebecca explained quietly. "It was rumors of Wesker that sent us to that island. We didn't want to worry Barry, so we told him that it was a regular rescue mission. He thinks that if Barry had known the truth, he might have been able to protect himself from Wesker."

He was shaking his head as she spoke. "Wesker wasn't human, Becca. He wasn't even sane. Barry never stood a chance. Chris should know that."

"And so should you," she replied earnestly. "Wesker hated us, and he wanted all of us dead. You and your immunity were just a bonus. Otherwise, he wouldn't have drawn S.T.A.R.S. there in the first place."

"And Steve?" Leon asked bleakly. "How will you absolve me of his death?"

"Oh, Leon." Rebecca sighed and gave him a hug he didn't return. "You didn't fail him, you know. You did everything you could to keep him safe. Sherry told me how grateful she was that you accepted him, that you treated him so well, even after . . ."

"It wasn't his fault," Leon said with shrug. "He didn't ask to infected with the T-Veronica virus, or to be brought back to life. All he wanted was to see Claire, again."

She nodded as she stepped back. "Sherry said that he wanted to know why Claire never came for him."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. "He, uh, thought it was because of me."

"Well, at least he and Sherry had each other," was all Rebecca said in return. She tucked her arm in the crook of his elbow with a smile. "Come on. I'll walk you out."

Leon returned the smile as they walked towards the front of the building. He saw Chris break away from a group of recruits, looking angrier than he had ever seen him, and groaned aloud. "Shit, I do _not_ need this," he muttered under his breath.

"I want to talk to you," Chris said without preamble.

Leon sighed. "Chris—"

"Now!"

"Alright." Leon sent Rebecca a reassuring smile before following the other man into what looked like a conference room. He waited until the door had closed behind him to speak. "Look, Chris, I—"

Chris' fist lashed out, catching him in the face, and sent stumbling back a few paces. "I warned you," he rumbled, rubbing his knuckles as he advanced. "I told you that I would kill you if you didn't go to Claire and make things right."

Leon kept his hands at his sides, even as every instinct he possessed screamed for him to retaliate. "She's grieving for Burnside," he replied, unable to keep his own anger hidden. "I won't take advantage of her like that, and I refuse to take second place to anyone. Not her dead boyfriend, or her precious brother!"

"You son of a bitch!" Chris grabbed him by the labels of his jacket and jerked him forward. "You said that you loved her!"

"And I do," Leon hissed in return. "But it goes both ways, Chris. It's been three months, and Sherry is _still_ waiting for her to call. If we're so damn important to her, why haven't we heard from her?"

The other man shoved him away, his lip curled in disgust. "We've had government agents crawling up our collective ass for the last three months," he spat, enraged. "We weren't just debriefed, we were invaded. I don't suppose _you've_ had that problem, have you?"

Leon looked away. "No," he said quietly, his anger gone, "I haven't heard from the HMC since I faxed them my final report, along with my resignation."

"That's what I thought." Chris cracked the knuckles on both hands in warning. "You've earned this, Leon. Fight back if you want, but you're going down."

He drew a deep breath and braced himself. The next punch hit him in the stomach, and he dropped to his knees. He'd let Chris take a few shots, but no more. He wasn't going to end up in some government hospital for anyone, not even Claire's overprotective brother. As miserable as he was, he valued his freedom more than anything else.

Leon made only a half-hearted attempt to protect himself. Guilt stayed his hand when he would have fought back. He blocked the worst of Chris' blows with defensive moves, which only served to enrage the other man. Chris landed one particularly vicious blow, and he heard a felt a rib crack.

"Enough," he gasped, holding a hand to his side and backing away.

The other man wasn't listening, too caught up in his rage to see just how much harm he was doing. He lunged, his expression murderous, and Leon had had enough. He sidestepped him, wrapped an arm around his neck, and pulled Chris into a stranglehold. He applied pressure to the jugular, not enough to do any permanent damage, but enough to cause the larger man to lose consciousness.

Chris was pulling at his arm, his movements gradually becoming feeble and uncoordinated. Leon was lowering him to the floor, preparing to release him, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a bullet being chambered. He looked up to find Claire standing just inside the door, her handgun drawn and trained on _him_.

"Let him go," she said in the coldest voice he'd ever heard her use.

"Claire?" His clear blue eyes widened dramatically. "Claire, it's not what you think. I was just—"

"I don't want to hear it. Let him go, now!" She took a step towards them and stopped, her cerulean eyes narrowing, their depths filled with antipathy. "You've already taken enough from me, Leon Kennedy. You might have my daughter, and you've already taken Steve, but you won't have my brother too. You leave Chris alone, or I swear to god, I will fucking kill you!"

Leon felt something inside of die with her words. This was his worst nightmare come to life, looking down the barrel of a gun, and realizing that it was the woman he loved about to pull the trigger. Claire's hatred was a palpable thing as he released Chris and slowly rose to his feet. Claire rushed to her brother's side, keeping the gun on him, even as she began to check her brother for injuries. Chris was gasping for breath, unable to speak, his hand covering his throat in an unconsciously protective gesture. Claire's voice was shaking as she spoke to him, but the gun in her hand never wavered.

"I wouldn't have hurt him," Leon said quickly, desperate to reassure her. "I was trying _not_ to when you came in."

"Liar!" Claire swallowed her tears as she tried to help her brother to his feet. "You've changed, Leon. I don't know you anymore, if I ever did! Get out of here, and don't come back. I never want to see you, again!"

Pain threatened to suffocate him as he spread his hands in a supplicating gesture. "Claire, please—"

"I said, get out!"

His shoulders slumped, his hand curling into fists at his sides, as he turned away. He gave them a wide a berth as he went around them, and Claire looked up long enough to track him with the .9 millimeter. He paused in the doorway, his blue eyes dull, his battered features drawn. "I'm sorry," he told her quietly, then walked away.

Claire blinked back tears as she helped her brother to his feet. Chris leaned on her heavily as she led him to one of the chairs. "Sit down," she told him in a uneven voice. "Let me look at your throat."

Chris coughed a little as he shook his head negatively. His head was pounding like mad, and throat hurt like hell, but he was okay. "He wasn't trying to hurt me," he said, wincing at the raspy quality to his voice.

"Ssshhh, don't try to talk." Claire managed a smile as she touched his throat with gentle fingers. "There doesn't seem to be any permanent damage, but I'm not a medic. Let me get Rebecca, and she can—"

"No." Chris grabbed her wrist as she turned away. "I want you to listen to me, Claire."

"Of course." She grabbed a chair and sat directly across him, taking his hand in hers. "I'm listening, big brother."

He sighed and pulled his hand away. "Leon didn't start this, Claire. I did. I'm the one that cornered him, I'm the one who threw the first punch."

"I don't care," Claire replied stubbornly. "He could have killed you, Chris. He almost did," she added heatedly.

"Damn it, would you just listen to me?" Her mouth snapped closed, her blue eyes narrowing a bit, and he bit back a laugh. That was his baby sister, all fire and spunk. "Leon let me pound on him, Claire. He blocked me when I would have hurt him, but he never once tried to hit me back."

"Then why did he have you on the ground in a chokehold?" she demanded coldly.

"Because, I finally hurt him too much." Chris looked at his sister with a combination of exasperation and shame. "I thought I heard a rib crack with that last punch. That's why he put me in the chokehold, to keep me from hurting him too badly. It's one of the first things they taught me in the Air Force, how to disable a man without killing him. Leon's had similar training, and he knew what he was doing. I might have been unconscious for a little while, but there would've been no permanent damage."

Claire crossed her arms under her breasts, her fine features taking on an obstinate cast. "Why are you defending him?" she asked angrily. "After everything's he's done, you should be first in line to kill the son of a bitch!"

"I never wanted him dead, Claire." Chris sighed again, running a hand through his spiky hair. "I wanted to beat the shit out of him for what he did to you, but that's all. He knew it, and he let me do it. Otherwise, I never would've taken him."

"And now," he added, his eyes narrowing slightly on hers, "I have to apologize to him for doing it."

"Why?" Claire asked at length. "This isn't another one of those stupid guy things, is it?"

Chris smiled slightly. "I guess, you could say that. I let my temper get the better of me, and I took it too far. I may have seriously hurt him, Claire," he said, the smile dying. "A cracked rib can be serious, especially since he had a similar injury after fighting the Tyrant in the plane."

"I hadn't thought of that," Claire murmured, her eyes downcast. "He took quite a beating during that gauntlet, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did." Chris rose to his feet and set a hand on her shoulder. "He's been through a hard time, Claire. After Barry—" his voice broke. He cleared his throat and continued, "After we found Barry, I didn't treat him very well. And after we saw Steve change, we all let him down by not insisting that they stay with us."

She rubbed her arms as an image of Steve becoming a Tyrant flashed through her mind. "We couldn't take that kind of chance," she whispered with remembered horror. "He was still infected with the T-Veronica virus. What if he'd changed and attacked us? Leon did the right thing by going his own way."

Chris shook his head. "We let him down, Claire. If they'd been with us, that zombie might not have bitten Steve. _We_ would have been there to stop it, and he might still be alive."

"Even if Steve had lived, he couldn't have lived a normal life," Claire said, blinking back tears as she thought of Steve's brash smile, and his final moments. "He wasn't human anymore, Chris."

"Maybe not," Chris acknowledged in a quiet voice, "but he would've been _alive_, Claire. Leon was outnumbered and outgunned—because of _us_. None of them should have survived. It's a miracle that they did."

She covered her face with her hands, her tears pouring over at the thought of Sherry and Leon dead. "Oh, God, Chris. What are we going to do?" she cried. "They're never going to forgive us."

"I don't know." He pulled her close, resting his chin on the crown of her head. "We'll apologize, and see where it goes from there."

As he watched his baby sister cry her heart out, the image of Claire's gun trained on Leon haunted him. Coen had taken him aside shortly after their return and told him what he suspected about Leon's mental state. The other man had been worried, and frankly, so was he. All of S.T.A.R.S. had nightmares and flashbacks, but they'd had each other to go to for comfort. Leon had been alone for eight years, and Chris doubted that Wesker had provided any sort of psychological help for him.

He knew that Leon had spent their years apart hoping that Claire would find him on her own. He was still in love with her, and he hadn't been able to hide it, or bothered to deny it when asked. Now, _he_ had gone and screwed things up by putting Claire in a position where she had to protect her only family from the man she loved. He'd seen Leon's face before he'd left, and the younger man had looked devastated. Leon probably believed that he'd lost any chance of being with her, and Chris was afraid of what his reaction to that loss would be.

He'd call Billy and see what he had to say. Neither of them were shrinks, but Billy had been through this once already. He would have a better idea of what to expect than Chris himself would. Then, he'd figure out a way to fix this mess they all found themselves in, before something irrevocable happened.

* * *

Leon kept his head down as he left the S.T.A.R.S. building, not wanting anyone to see him like this. He went straight to the battered old Jeep that Jack had bought and climbed behind the wheel. He pulled the seatbelt across his chest and fastened it. He hissed in pain as it dug into his side, and quickly took it off. If he got pulled over, he'd just have to take the damn ticket.

He started the car and turned onto the street, wanting nothing more than to go home and find a way to hide his bruises. If Sherry saw them, he'd be protecting the Redfields from more than Ada Wong!

He pulled up to the house, relieved to see Jack alone on the front porch. He parked in the driveway and approached the other man. "Is Sherry home?" he asked without preamble.

Jack shook his head slowly, his hazel eyes on Leon's battered features. "Shit, Leon, what the hell happened to you?"

"Chris and I finally had it out," Leon answered as he reached for the doorknob. "I think he cracked a rib. Would you help me bandage it before Sherry comes home?"

"Yeah, sure." Jack lumbered to his feet and followed him to his room. "You want to tell me how Redfield managed this?"

Leon remembered Chris' words and smiled grimly. "I had it coming, Jack. I just didn't think it would be so _bad."_

The other man snorted. "You _let _ him beat the crap out of you?"

Leon shrugged, using his right hand to lift his shirt over his head. "It's no big deal. I just don't want Sherry to know how bad it was."

"You look like you fought Tyson and lost, except that you still got your ear," Jack grunted. "I don't think you're going to be able to hide it. You got a first aid kit in here?"

"Yeah." Leon pulled one out of the nightstand, flinching involuntarily as he straightened. He tossed it on the bed, grabbed a bottle of scotch off of the dresser, and sat down with careful movements. "I'm not mad at Chris for this, Jack. He was only protecting his little sister."

Jack unrolled a bandage and began to wind it around his chest. "And what did she have to say about this?"

He raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. "She caught me using a stranglehold to control her brother." His smile was crooked and bitter as he took a long drink. "She pulled her gun on me, Jack. She told me to get the hell out of her life."

The other man paused. "The little redhead pulled a gun on you?" he asked with surprise.

"Yeah," Leon responded bleakly. "Jack, she almost pulled the trigger. I don't think she's ever going to forgive me for Steve's death."

"Christ, Leon! You have worst luck with women than _I_ do!"

"That he does," a low, husky feminine voice drawled from behind them.

Leon's head whipped around, his eyes narrowing as Ada Wong came in through the open window. "Ada," he greeted, his voice as even as he could make it as fear surged through him. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think, handsome?" Ada cocked her head to one side, her sapphire eyes moving to Jack. "It's definitely good to see you again, lover."

Jack's smile was indecent, even as his eyes remained guarded. "You too, babe."

Ada walked confidently through the room, her high heels clicking against the hardwood floor. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave me alone with Leon," she said, running one hand up his chest. "It's business, you understand?"

Jack cleared his throat and stepped back, uncomfortable having her touch him in front of other man, whom he knew hated her. "Yeah, babe, I've got it." He shot Leon a questioning look, wanting to assure that it was all right with him.

Leon sighed and nodded. "Go ahead, Jack. I'll see you when I'm done here." He waited until the door closed behind him to speak. "I thought that I'd earned my freedom, Ada?"

"You have." Ada approached him with a small smile. "I'm not here to take that away, Leon. I just wanted to see how were doing. I've missed you," she added sincerely.

He watched with tired blue eyes as she sat on the bed beside him. She crossed her legs, the slit in her red dress sliding away to reveal the creamy skin of one thigh. Eight years ago, the sight had driven him wild, even as his heart had cried out for Claire. Now, she was no less beautiful for being older, but she left him completely cold.

He didn't even bother to protest as she picked up the bandage and finished what Jack had begun. "You wanted me once," she said almost casually, and his whole body stiffened. "I could have had you then, you know. You wouldn't have been able to resist me if I'd set out to seduce you."

"Then, why didn't you?" Leon asked wearily. "It's not like I could've fought you, then."

"Because that's not how I wanted you." Ada met his gaze, her own expression stark. "I wanted you to come to me of your own free will. You never did."

She clipped the bandage in place and rose to her feet. "Why did you let Redfield beat you so badly, Leon?"

He looked down, focusing on the black stilettos he had come to hate. "I had it coming," he said almost absently.

Ada's lips tightened as she looked down at the top of his head. She didn't agree with him, but she let it go. It was enough that he hadn't pulled a weapon on her, or tried to toss her out on her rear yet. She went into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, dousing it with cold water. She rung it out and took it back into the bedroom. She resumed her seat and began to clean the blood from his swollen face.

Leon closed his eyes and let her have her way. So far, she hadn't threatened him, or the people he cared about. He wanted desperately to throw her out on her pretty little ass, but he feared the consequences of such an action. Albert Wesker might be dead, but Ada Wong was still alive and well and completely obsessed with him. He didn't trust her not to go back on her word and lock he and Sherry up again.

"Why me, Ada?" He raised his lackluster gaze to hers. "Why am _I_ so important to you?"

"Leon. . ." She shrugged delicately as she dabbed at a cut on his bottom lip. "Do you really want to know?"

Leon hesitated before nodding. "Please," he murmured, "I need to know."

"Because I care for you," Ada told him with complete honesty. "That is why I've spent the last eight years protecting you and Sherry. Do you remember Raccoon City, when I first told you that I didn't want to lose you?"

"Yes," Leon muttered with distaste. "After you were wounded by the Tyrant."

Ada smiled coolly at his obvious revulsion. "I'd already realized what a good man you were, and then you tried to save me after Annette Birkin shot me, when I had already double-crossed you. Wesker had been watching the entire time, and he knew how I felt about you. I had enough strength left to throw a rocket launcher to your precious Claire, and then I died. When Albert brought me back, he made me a deal. If I would work for him exclusively, he would entrust your care to me. If not, he was going to give you to Krauser permanently."

"You knew Krauser back then?" Leon asked with surprise.

"Only by reputation. That was enough," she said with a shudder. "I couldn't allow that animal to sink his claws into you. Unchecked, Krauser would have ended up killing you. I couldn't let that happen."

"And then," she continued, "you were shot during that damned training exercise, and Wesker found the anti-body in your blood after the surgery. I knew he'd never let you go, then. I had to find a way to release you on my own."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Leon questioned in a quiet voice. He grasped her wrist, stilling her movements. "Why didn't you tell me that that I was immune, Ada?"

She didn't answer for a long moment. "I didn't trust Wesker," she said at length. "He might have lied to me about that, Leon. For all I know, he could have been wrong. He wasn't the genius that Birkin, or even Alexia Ashford, was. Had you believed yourself immune, you might have taken unnecessary chances with your life. I couldn't risk that."

Ada dropped the cloth and cradled his face in her hand. "I'm so sorry, Leon. I did the best that I could, for you and Sherry both."

"And Claire?" he threw out in challenge. "Did you hate her so much that you cut the brakes on her bike yourself?"

She jerked her hand away, her exotic features hardening. "I was very careful with that. I made sure that she would have some warning before they failed completely."

Leon laughed bitterly at that. "And I'm supposed to thank you for that?"

"No," Ada replied calmly, "I know all too well how much you hate me, Leon. Though I could argue your reasoning with you."

"You told Luis she was my wife," he all but spat.

"Because I knew that you saw her that way." Ada cocked her head to one side as she considered him. "After her rejection of you today, do you still feel the same?"

Leon closed his eyes as a the memory of Claire pointing her gun at him merged with the nightmare he'd had for eight long years. "It doesn't matter," he answered despondently. "Claire will never be a part of my life, again."

"Can you live with that?" she asked. She knelt before him, concern etched into her cold, beautiful face. "Can you truly live without her, Leon?"

"I don't know," he whispered hoarsely, unsure why he was being this honest with her. "Before, I thought that we might be friends again, someday. That gave me hope. Now. . ."

"Leon—"

"She blames me for Steve's death, Ada." His eyes opened, their crystal-like depths filled with torment. "She loved him, and I let him die. Barry, too."

"No!" Ada told him fiercely. "Their deaths were _not_ your fault. Not even I could talk Albert out of including them. He wanted his revenge on Redfield, and that included taking those he loved away from him. It had nothing to do with you."

"Steve was bitten on my watch. That makes his death my responsibility." Leon dropped his head into his hands, fighting back the bitter sting of tears. "Sherry loved him too, Ada. I failed them both."

Her lips tightened at that. She had never liked Steve Burnside, and only Wesker had kept her from killing him after he'd seduced Sherry. "She's wrong, Leon. You did the best that you could. You were the only thing standing between your precious Claire and certain death," she reminded him heatedly, standing as she added, "You still are."

His eyes snapped open, the fear in their crystalline depths piercing her heart. "Don't hurt her," he said quickly, one hand coming up to capture her wrist.

"Leon, I—""

"Please, Ada," he pleaded, willing to beg if it meant Claire's life. "If you ever truly cared about me, you won't hurt Claire!"

Ada echoed his earlier sigh, frustrated at being thwarted. "Damn it, she's done nothing but hurt you, Leon!"

"I don't care!" Desperation surged through him as he sought to keep the woman he loved safe. He reached out and pulled Ada to him, striving to hide his loathing as he looked up at her. "I'll do anything you want, Ada, _be_ anything you want. Just promise me that you won't hurt Claire?"

She gazed down at him with troubled eyes. "You'd be willing to become my lover?" she asked slowly, raising a trembling hand to his golden hair.

"Yes," he told her, swallowing hard even as he attempted a smile. "Let Claire live, and I'm yours."

"And what about S.T.A.R.S.?" Ada questioned, her voice husky despite her best efforts. "They'll never forgive you if you take up with me."

Sorrow flitted across his features, and then was gone. "That part of my life is over," he murmured, resting his forehead against her stomach. "I should have put them behind me years ago. I've clung to them for far too long as it is."

"Leon. . ." Her voice trailed off at the hopelessness in his own. She ran her hands through his hair once, reached behind her, and pried his hands from her waist. "You've got your freedom, lover. Use it well."

Leon's head jerked up, his surprise obvious. "What do you mean?" he asked sharply.

"Just what I said." Ada smiled the mysterious smile she knew he hated and sauntered towards the open window. "See you around, handsome."

"Wait!" Leon surged to his feet, his too-blue eyes wide. "I thought you wanted me?"

"Not like this." She shook her head negatively, her midnight eyes darkening. "If you ever change your mind, I'll be waiting. Otherwise, goodbye, Leon."

"But what about Claire?" he asked frantically.

"I'm not going to hurt her," she told him in a flat, bored voice. "Claire Redfield has nothing to fear from me. Your _wife_ is safe."

Leon searched her gaze anxiously, unable to believe her words. He saw the truth in their midnight depths and nearly wept with relief. "Thank you," he said hoarsely, a combination of hatred and gratitude coloring his words.

She smiled sadly. "I'd like permission to visit Sherry every once in awhile," she said as she turned away. "I told her I would, and I'd like to keep my promise."

"I-I want you out of my life," he told her helplessly.

Ada nodded once, her back ramrod straight. "You won't even know I've been here, Leon. I'm asking out of respect for you, nothing more."

His hands clenched into fists as he fought his dislike of her. "Fine," he bit off at length. "I know that Sherry. . .cares for you. If she wants to see you, I won't try to stop her." He gaze bore into her back, his too-blue eyes hard. "But I don't ever want to see you again, Ada. I'll kill you if I do."

"I understand." Ada pulled the grappling hook out of its holster and shot it at the roof of the neighbors house. She shot him one last look over her shoulder, her expression vulnerable in a way he'd never thought possible. "I love you, Leon."

Leon blinked as she pulled the trigger and flew out of the window. She landed on the neighbor's roof, and then disappeared from sight. He shuddered and got up to close the window. He locked it securely, knowing that it wouldn't stop Ada if she chose to return. He closed the curtains and went into the bathroom, using the mirror as he washed the blood off his face.

God, but he looked like shit! Leon thought with a shake of his head. And it wasn't just the alcohol he'd been using to push the darkness back. He had lost weight, and his eyes had a haunted quality to them that even _he_ could see. His depression was only getting worse, and he had to find a way out of it.

Not that Chris hadn't done a number on his face. He had. He wasn't quite so pretty right now, which was probably a blessing in disguise. Maybe, it had helped keep Ada from taking him up on his stupid, self-destructive offer. On the upside, neither his jaw nor his nose had been broken. He'd be bruised all to hell for a few weeks, but there was no permanent damage.

Sherry was going to be pissed, though. Maybe, he shouldn't have been quite so reticent in hitting Chris back. He'd feel better about the whole thing if he knew that the other man was going to be hurting, too. Well, it was too late now. He'd blown his chance with both of the Redfields.

Leon inhaled sharply, and then moaned as his ribs protested. He had to stop thinking about Claire, or he was going to drive himself insane. He was no longer a prisoner, clinging to memories of a lost love to keep his sanity. He was a free man now, and Claire Redfield wanted nothing to do with him. If he didn't remember that, he'd never find a way to fight this depression.

Strangely enough, having Ada's promise helped. Wesker was dead and couldn't hurt any of them, and the HMC was being very quietly shut down. He and Sherry were free, and S.T.A.R.S. would never again be put in danger because of their ties to _him_. Luis had the life Osmund Saddler had stolen from him, along with a woman who loved him as much as he loved her. Hell, even Jack was a welcome, though exasperating, addition to their little family.

Life was good, Leon realized with a jolt. He might never again love a woman, or have the children he'd once hoped for, but he wasn't completely alone. He had a home, a fledgling business that actually made him look forward to going back to work, and he had all the time in the world to do whatever he wanted. The best part of it all was that he'd never have to anything alone, unless he chose to. He had more than he'd ever thought to have again after losing Claire. He was suddenly determined not to throw it all away by doing anything self-destructive.

With that thought in mind, he went into the bedroom and grabbed the bottle of scotch. He put the cap on it and took it downstairs, tossing it to a surprised Jack. "So, when are we going to go fishing?"

Jack blinked at the unexpected question. He'd been trying to get Leon to go fishing with him since they'd bought the boat. "Whenever you want," he said, shrugging as he eyed the younger man. "Why are you in such a good mood?"

"I finally dug my head out of ass," Leon said with a self-deprecating smile.

"It's about damn time," the other man grunted. "There's a lot more to life than redheads with asshole brothers."

He laughed at that, then winced and grabbed his side. "No more jokes for a while, Carver. I don't think my ribs can handle your brand of humor."

Jack flipped him off as he set the bottle aside. "Did I just lose my drinking buddy?" he asked in a more serious tone.

Leon nodded somberly. "I'll have a beer with you now and then, but no more heavy drinking. With my condition, I shouldn't be drinking at all," he added. "I've just been lucky enough to pass out before I did myself any serious damage."

"You always were a light-weight, Kennedy." Jack looked relieved as he palmed the remote and turned the TV on. "You had me worried for a while there, Leon."

"I know." Leon eased down on the other end of the sofa, propping his booted feet up on the coffee table. "Thanks for not trying to talk me out of it."

"You had to stop on your own," the other man said flatly. "But if you'd ended up in the hospital, I'd have dumped every bottle in the house. Sherry would've helped me. Luis, too. They're both worried as hell about you."

Leon tipped his head back against the cushions. "I just wish it hadn't taken an ass-kicking for me to see just how serious my depression was. God, I hurt _everywhere. _Chris has got a serious right hook!"

Jack smiled a little at that. "Can I ask what Ada said to you?"

"I think she was saying goodbye." Leon shrugged. "I told her she could see Sherry, but to stay the hell away from me. She told me she loved, and then jumped out the window. It was. . . weird."

"I bet." Jack surfed the channels until he found a soccer game and settled back. "So, you're going to be okay without the little redhead?"

Leon smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "I'll miss her, but yeah, I'll be okay."

"Good," he stated with relief. "Once your ribs heal up, I'll take you out on the boat. Teach you how fish like a real man—without bait."

Leon groaned at that. "No grenades, Jack. That's illegal here the States, you know."

"Smart ass." Jack grinned and punched him lightly on the arm. "I meant, with a fly pole. It's a lot of work, but it's relaxing as hell. What do you think I was doing when you met me."

"Sleeping," Leon returned, deadpan. "I didn't know you could fly fish from a prone position."

"Asshole."

* * *

Claire hit the punching bag before her as hard as she could, focusing all of her unsettled emotions on beating it to a pulp. She kept seeing Leon's face, battered and bruised, blood trickling from a cut on his lip, as he begged her to listen to him. And then her own voice, as she blamed him unjustly for Steve's death.

She knew that Leon had done his best to protect Steve, just as she knew that he hadn't really taken Sherry away from her. She had just been so hurt after they'd returned. Three months and no phone call. He hadn't even tried to see her when he'd come in for his blood tests. He'd told her that he loved her back in that hell, and then he'd simply walked away.

Then she'd come into the S.T.A.R.S. conference room, her home ground, to find Chris on the ground, nearly unconscious, with Leon's arms around his neck, and she had lost it. She had lashed out at Leon, saying such horrible things, determined to hurt him the way he'd hurt her.

And she had, Claire thought, blinking against tears as she pounded the big bag. God, she'd threatened to kill him! she thought incredulously. How the hell could she have pulled her gun on _Leon_? Leon was one of the nicest, most honest people she had ever known. Deep down, she knew that he wouldn't do anything to hurt anyone. Yet, she'd still let her anger get the better of her.

What would she do if he refused to forgive her? How could she explain to Sherry why she reacted the way she did? Hell, how was she going to explain it to Leon? Sherry was angry enough with her as it was. Only Leon had stopped her from leaving S.T.A.R.S. and going her own way during Wesker's little test. She thought the world of her adoptive father, and Claire had nearly shot him because she was _mad_ at him at him for hurting her.

"Son of a bitch!" Claire whirled away from the swinging bag and threw the boxing gloves against the wall. She grabbed a towel from the bench and buried her face in it for a long moment. What would she do if he refused to accept her apology? What if, after all they had been through, he simply couldn't forgive her?

"Problems, dear?"

She whirled around, her eyes narrowing on the stunning Asian woman standing in the doorway. "How the hell did you get in here?" she asked furiously.

"I have my ways." Ada sauntered into the room, her eyes cool as they appraised the woman Leon had been willing to sell his soul for. "Do you know who I am, Claire Redfield?"

Claire's slim body went still as Raccoon City flashed through her mind. "It's you!" she gasped with disbelief. "You're the one who threw that rocket launcher to me on the platform in Raccoon!"

Ada nodded condescendingly. "That's right. I'm woman who gave you the means to defeat William Birkin, and save his daughter's life."

"Ada Wong." The other, more sophisticated woman smiled again, but it was an empty gesture, and it sent a surge of outrage through her. "You're the one who took them away from me, the one who cut the brakes on my bike and stole my mother's ring!"

"The same," Ada admitted calmly. "And you're the woman who won Leon's heart."

Claire eyed her uneasily as she took a step towards the bench. Her gun was in its holster, not more than a foot behind her, lying innocently on the plain wooden bench. The too-beautiful woman tracked her as she backed up, her sapphire eyes flicking to the gun, then back to Claire. Claire stopped moving, suddenly certain that going for her handgun would be a life-ending decision.

Ada nearly laughed as she watched comprehension dawn on the younger woman. "Smart girl," she said mockingly. "I promised Leon that I wouldn't hurt you, but I would be forced to defend myself if you pulled that on me."

"What do you want?" Claire asked her, her voice trembling slightly.

"I wanted to see the woman that Leon spent eight years in captivity to protect," came the sardonic answer. "I must say, I am not impressed."

"Fuck you!" Claire flared, her temper getting the better of her.

Ada's expression hardened dramatically. "Watch your mouth, Ms. Redfield. I've wanted to kill you for a long time, and I'm not at all happy about being denied."

"You're crazy," Claire whispered, realizing that Leon had told them the truth. This beautiful, sexy woman was obsessed with him, and she wanted nothing more than to eliminate what she saw as her competition.

"Perhaps, I am," Ada said with a graceful shrug. "You left Leon and Sherry behind, as though they were nothing, to chase after your brother. You had Leon's heart, and a beautiful daughter who worshipped you, and you were still able to walk away. You left them at the mercy of Albert Wesker—of _me._ To me, that makes _you_ the crazy one."

Claire lowered her gaze as regret tore through her. "I didn't know," she whispered, half to herself. "I didn't know that I would lose them. I thought Leon loved me enough to wait."

"He did," Ada told her, her voice revealing her anger despite her attempts to hide it. "He waited eight years for you to come back to him, and you never did. Yet, you spent all that time looking for a boy you'd known less than a day."

Claire's head came up, her misty blue eyes widening slightly. "You're talking about Steve," she said dumbly. "It wasn't like that with us. He was a survivor, like me. But he was just a kid, and I let him die," she added starkly.

"Leon feels guilty about him, too," Ada said with a shake of her head. "What neither of you realize is that Steve hated you both. He wanted nothing more than to take you away from Leon. He believed that Leon was responsible for you not coming for him. He took his revenge by seducing your. . daughter."

Claire flinched at that. "I knew he had a crush on me, and although I liked him, I didn't return his feelings."

Ada watched her closely as she said, "No, of course you didn't. You were in love with Leon." The younger woman's eyes closed, pain etched into her pretty features, and she knew she'd been right. Claire Redfield had loved Leon, and obviously still did.

"Why didn't you try harder to find Leon?" she asked bluntly. "Why did you give up when you were so close?"

"Because of this." Claire kept her hands in plain sight as she reached for the waist pack lying beside her handgun. She pulled out a plain black wallet and flipped it open. "Ten months after I returned from Antarctica, a man named Ark came to see me. He said that he was a friend of Leon's, and that Leon wanted me to have this. Then he walked away. He wouldn't answer any of my questions, he just left me standing there, with this damned thing in my hand, and my heart broke all over again."

Ada drew in a sharp breath as her gaze lingered on Leon's R.P.D. badge. She hadn't known about Ark Thompson's visit to the Redfield house. She should have known that Leon would find a way to communicate with the woman he loved. He'd ensured that Claire knew he was thinking of her, that he hadn't forgotten her. The girl's reaction was what completely mystified Ada.

She and her brother had come so close to finding Leon that Ada had fully expected to have to kill them to keep them from freeing him. Then, they had inexplicably stopped looking for him, sparing her a deed that would have finished Leon. If it had been her, she would never have stopped looking. Instead, Claire Redfield had taken it as a rejection, and responded by funneling all of her efforts into searching for Steve Burnside.

She cleared her throat and tore her gaze away from the badge. "It wasn't a rejection, Ms. Redfield. It was the only way he could let you know that he was all right, and that he was waiting for you."

"And I never came," Claire murmured sadly. "God, it's a wonder he doesn't hate me."

"Yes, it is." Ada's full lips firmed into a line as she wandered over to the punching bag. She traced a hand over its bulky lines as she spoke, determined to give Leon what he so desperately needed. "I've wanted Leon since I first met him in the R.P.D.. He's scorned my advances for eight years, because he loves you so much. Today, he offered to trade himself for your safety."

Claire clutched the wallet to her, feeling the sharp edges of the badge cutting into her midriff. "How do you mean?" she asked, her voice wavering precariously.

Ada laughed humorlessly. "He told me he would become my lover, if only I stayed my hand, and let you live."

Jealousy flashed through her at the thought of Leon with this beautiful, cold-blooded killer. "Are you here to kill me, then?"

"No, I'm here to make _you_ a deal," Ada told her cryptically.

"What kind of deal?" Claire asked warily.

Ada met her gaze squarely. "Go to Leon and make things right between you, and I will guarantee the safety of you and all you care about."

Claire blinked, surprised by the answer. "What do we have to be afraid of?" she asked. "Wesker's dead, and the HMC with him."

"No, you're wrong." Ada shook her head, amazed at the other woman's naiveté. "Wesker might be dead, but there will always be other scientists willing to sell their souls for bioweapons research. The HMC hasn't been disbanded, merely suspended pending further notice. Once a new scientific staff has been assembled, it will start anew. None of you will ever truly be safe, so long as you live."

"I will protect you," she continued. "I will assure the safety of S.T.A.R.S., but you must keep Leon from succumbing to his depression. He needs you, child, more than you will ever know. Go to him, and give him something to live for."

"What depression?" Claire watched with consternation as the other woman walked towards the door. "Wait! What the hell are you talking about?"

The other woman didn't respond. She merely left the room and disappeared into the bowels of the building. Claire stared after her for several moments before fear spurred her into action. She grabbed her gun and her waist pack and rushed into the locker room. She didn't bother to shower or change. She just threw on her jacket, shoved her stuff into her bag, and ran to her bike.

* * *

Leon sat on the front porch, his clear blue eyes watching the activity up and down the suburban street. Husbands in khaki shorts and polo shirts mowed their lawns and washed their SUVs, while children ran around, howling like banshees. Their mothers scolded them from the stoop, or chased them around the yard, all pictures of domestic bliss.

He still felt uncomfortable living in this kind of neighborhood, but Sherry had fallen in love with the house, and Leon hadn't been able to refuse her. Right now, he was wishing he'd stood his ground and took the place in the mountains that _he_ had wanted. Nearly every one of their neighbors had stopped by with a dish of food or a bouquet of flowers, their curiosity as evident as their goodwill. They'd all heard of the beating he'd took at the hands of Chris Redfield this morning, and they were all dying to know what had happened. Leon wasn't used to having such unrestricted contact with others, and he still wasn't sure if he liked it.

Luis and Jack's presence in the house still raised a few eyebrows, though no one had been impolite enough to ask about them, or Sherry's connection to them. She and Leon were both blue-eyed blonds, so everyone had made the assumption that they were brother and sister. Luis accompanied Sherry everywhere she went, their bickering a source of constant amusement to the populace of this small Montana town, as well as an explanation in itself. Jack, on the other hand, wasn't well liked.

Leon grinned as he remembered the first time one of the neighbors had come over to find Jack, bare-chested, a beer in his hand, and several empty bottles littered around him, kicking back on the porch. Leon had been with him, discussing their security business. The young couple had looked horrified, especially when Jack had openly flirted with the wife. The couple had beaten a hasty retreat, and they had both laughed just as soon as they were out of hearing distance.

Leon sighed and opened another bottle of root beer. He winced as the soda stung the cut that was still healing on his bottom lip. He probably looked like a lowlife with all of his bruises, not to mention the bandages that crisscrossed his chest, but Leon found that he just didn't care what anyone thought anymore. He and Jack might have to work for it, but they were going to be wealthy men someday, and all of these people could kiss his ass.

The front door opened, and Jack stepped onto the porch. "Mornin'," he mumbled around a yawn.

"It's still Friday," Leon informed him with a smile. "You only slept for a few hours, Jack."

"Yeah, whatever." He plopped down in the cushioned chair and lit a cigarette. "You got another beer over there?"

Leon rolled his eyes as he grabbed a bottle out of the cooler at his feet. He passed it to the other man, who promptly twisted the lid off, taking a large swig. Leon watched him scrunch his nose at the taste of the soda, when he had obviously been expecting alcohol. Leon just grinned at him and turned his gaze back to the neighborhood, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement, as their neighbors hurriedly went into their homes.

"I think you scare them, Jack."

Jack's hazel eyes went the empty yards and he snorted. "Fuck 'em," he said succinctly. "I've got just as much right to live here as they do."

"And drink on the porch at all hours of the day and night," Leon commented humorously.

"Damned straight. At least I would if you hadn't just handed me a root beer." Jack scratched his stubble-covered jaw as he yawned again. "Did you hear back from that Hunnigan chick, yet?"

"No, not yet." Leon had offered Hunnigan a position in his new company. She'd asked for time to think about it, and he'd given her a week. Today was the last day. "Hunnigan's solid, Jack. She'll call, either way."

"Mmmm." Jack raised his hands over his head and stretched. "So, is she still off-limits?"

"Unless she says otherwise, yes." Leon frowned as he opened his own soda. "She was really broken up after Mike's death. As far as I know, she hasn't dated in the last two years. So—"

"No hitting on her," Jack finished with a sigh. "Got it."

Leon laughed at that. "There are plenty of women around here, Jack."

"They're all married," Jack said with a scowl. "Even I have morals, Leon, low as they are."

"Getting bored, are you?" he said dryly.

"Nah." Jack grinned again. "They do have a nice little bar downtown. You should come with me some time."

"Not my scene, Jack. Thanks anyway."

"You don't have to drink, Leon," he pointed out. "Just hang out, shoot a couple of games of pool with me, maybe hit on some women."

Leon shot him a dark look. "I'm already going fishing with you Sunday. Don't push it, Carver."

Jack shrugged, raising the bottle to his lips. He paused as he watched a yellow sedan pull up to the curb, then smiled wickedly as he saw who got out of it. "Untouchable babe at one o'clock," he said, pointing towards the curb.

Ingrid Hunnigan was stepping out of a taxi, and Leon smiled as he jogged down the walkway to meet her. "Why didn't you call?" he asked, reaching for the bag hanging from her shoulder. "You didn't have to pay for a cab. I would've picked you up at the airport."

"It's good to see you, too, Leon." Ingrid smiled and gave him a quick hug. Leon Kennedy had to be the nicest man she'd ever met. She stepped back and eyed his bandaged chest. "What the hell happened to you?"

Leon flushed, shrugging awkwardly. "I had it out with an old friend," he admitted.

"Uh-huh." She looked at him with a skeptical expression. "Was his name MAC?"

Leon grinned at that. "Nope, Redfield."

Hunnigan's blue eyes widened at that. "Not that S.T.A.R.S. captain?" she asked, incredulous. "That guy's nowhere near capable of taking you!"

"I kind of owed him," Leon said, leading her up the stairs. "Do you have any more luggage?"

She shot him a knowing look and let the subject drop. "It's coming," she answered. "My things will be here in a few days. I gave the movers this address. I hope that's still okay?"

"Of course," he assured her. "Luis isn't using his room anymore, so he offered to give it to you. It's a good-sized room, and I already put a TV in there, complete with cable. Just in case," he added, suddenly hesitant.

"Don't worry," she said in a dry voice, "I'm here to stay. The HMC has been officially disbanded—unofficially , of course."

"That's good to hear. And we can always use more furniture," Leon said humorously as he offered her his hand. "Welcome aboard, Hunnigan."

"Thanks." Ingrid shook it with a fond smile. "Now, why don't you offer me one of those cold drinks. I had a screaming infant in the seat next to me, and it made for a _long_ flight."

Jack laughed at that, digging out a bottle and handing to her. "Good to see you again, babe."

She snorted as she twisted the cap off and took Leon's empty seat. "Call me babe again, and I'll—"

"Jack." Leon crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a glance at him.

Jack merely grinned and said, "I said I wouldn't flirt, Leon, and I didn't."

Leon shook his head, trying not to smile. "That's probably the best you're going to get, Ingrid."

She shrugged and pushed her glasses to the top of her head. "I'll break him of it," she promised, opening the soda and taking a drink.

"Good luck," Leon told her sincerely.

The other man was laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. Jack wasn't a chauvinist, but he was set in his ways. Leon had to agree, although he wasn't stupid enough to laugh. He honestly didn't know Hunnigan well enough to know if she had a temper or not, but he certainly didn't want to find out. He had enough hot-tempered women in his life as it was!

Ingrid leveled a warm smile at him. "So, how have you been, Leon?"

"I'm good, believe it or not." Leon set her bag at her feet and settled back against railing. "We got the land for the airstrip today, and we're going to convert the old barn out there into the main office, and build a hangar out in the field."

"Eventually," Jack inserted dryly. "We're kind of running low on funds, right now."

"Not anymore, you're not." Ingrid straightened in her seat, looking solemn and studious. "Cut me in, and I'll pay for the conversion."

Leon tilted his head to one side consideringly. "You want to be a partner?" he asked, just to be sure.

She nodded, her dark hair tumbling around her face. "I want job security, Leon. I want to know that I'm not going to be fired again in the near future."

"It's going to be expensive," he told her seriously.

"I have savings, not to mention excellent credit," she said with a sniff. "I'm sure I can get a loan from the local bank. What do you say?"

"I'm not the only one to consider here, Hunnigan." Leon looked at Jack questioningly. "Do you have any objections to taking on another partner?"

Jack shook his head negatively. "So long as she stops giving me shit about calling her babe, she's in."

"Oh yeah, that's fair," Ingrid drawled facetiously.

Leon chuckled. "Welcome to the exciting world of home and office security, Hunnigan."

She shook his hand with a satisfied expression. "I've always wanted to own my own business."

Jack sighed at the memories. "Yeah, long lunches, naps between customers. . ."

Ingrid shot him a startled look. "He is kidding, right?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes," Leon assured her, "he's kidding."

"I'm not wearing a tie," Jack said suddenly.

Leon shuddered at the thought. "No ties," he agreed hastily. "The quality of our work will more than make up for the fact that we don't wear suits."

"I'll wear the suits," she told them with a smile. "I'll even keep the books, so long as I don't have to do any of the system installations."

"Deal," Leon said promptly.

"Cool." Ingrid stood and shouldered her bag. "Now, show me to my room, so I can try to get rid of this travel dust."

"I'll show you," Jack said so quickly that Leon laughed.

"I've got it, Jack. But thanks, anyway." He led her up the stairs and took her to Luis' rarely-used bedroom. He pushed open the door and stepped back. "The bathroom's at the end of the hall, or downstairs off of the family room. If you need anything, just ask."

"I will." Ingrid stepped into the room with a smile. "It's perfect, Leon. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he told her, backing away. "I'll, uh, see you later, then."

She laughed at his uncomfortable expression and closed the door in his face. Leon uttered a low laugh of his own and went into his bedroom. He grabbed a t-shirt and threw it on. He went back downstairs and picked up the living room. It wasn't messy, but it definitely looked lived-in.

Which was nice, Leon thought as he opened the curtains. It reminded him of the home he'd grown up in. His mom had always kept the place clean, but it had rarely been spotless. Especially, after he and his friends had torn through the place. Mom had always gone into a cleaning frenzy right before his dad was due home from work, and he'd done his best to help.

Leon smiled to himself at the memories that had once brought him so much pain. To this day, he didn't know how his parents had died. He didn't know if they'd been attacked by the zombies that had filled Raccoon City, or if they had survived long enough to die during the bombing afterwards. He'd always brooded about that. He'd damn near driven himself crazy imagining their deaths. Now, he was teaching himself to remember them as they were, and he found that it didn't hurt quite so badly.

He went back downstairs and joined Jack on the porch. Luis and Sherry had come home, and were currently bickering as they came up the walkway. He smiled at them, wondering what Luis had done this time. The blasé attitude he liked to project drove Sherry crazy, but in the best possible way. Despite the ten-year age difference between them, he made Sherry completely happy. Someday, Luis would trust in her feelings for him, and he would feel the same.

He lowered his head slightly, hoping his hair would hide the worst of the damage. "How did it go?" he threw out as they stepped onto the porch.

"He got the job!" Sherry exclaimed before Luis could speak, giving the man in a question an enthusiastic hug. "I told you you would. Leon's got the best contacts in the business, after all."

Luis shook his head as he returned the embrace. "It's a good thing, too," he joked. "I think Sherry would've have shot the guy if he _hadn't_ hired me!"

"Damned straight." She pressed a kiss to his lips before turning to her father. Her smile died as she saw his bruised face. "What happened?" she demanded, rushing to his side. "Who did this to you?"

_Damn_. Leon straightened and smiled as much as his battered face would allow. "I'm fine, honey," he told her in a gentle voice. "It's just a few bruises."

She snorted and pushed his hair out of his face. "You didn't answer my question," she pointed out with irritation. "Did Claire's brother do this to you?"

He sighed and pulled her hands away from his face. "He was angry, Sherry, and he had every right to be."

"And we don't?" she asked hotly. "Claire left us, not the other way around."

"I didn't say that, honey." Leon squeezed her hands gently. "He wasn't angry about that. He was mad because I haven't tried to contact Claire since we came back."

Sherry was shaking her head, scattering her blond hair. "No, that's wrong, Dad. Claire has to come to us, or it won't mean a damn thing."

"I know, honey." Leon smiled crookedly and set a hand on her shoulder. "Chris is a little hot-headed, but he'll understand eventually."

"I don't think Redfield's going to be a factor in this," Jack said suddenly, pointing to the yard. "It looks like the little redhead figured it out on her own."

Leon rose to his feet slowly, one hand coming up to grip the column near the stairs. Claire was coming up the walkway, her expression more uncertain than he had ever seen it. He swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off her as Sherry came to stand at his side. Her auburn hair was caught up in its usual ponytail, baring her slender neck and most of her shoulders. She wasn't in her S.T.A.R.S. uniform either, she was wearing normal clothes. Tight white bicycle shorts and a blue tank top, with plain white running shoes. She looked as tired as he felt, but damn good.

Claire came to a stop at the bottom of the steps, her cerulean eyes swinging back and forth between he and their daughter. Sherry moved closer to Leon in an unconsciously protective gesture, and Claire's expression changed to one of determination. She marched up the steps and drew Sherry into an unreciprocated hug.

"I'm sorry," Claire told her, unable to make herself pull away. "I'm so sorry, Sherry."

Sherry's arms slowly came around her, and then she was clinging to her. "Claire," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You finally came."

Claire squeezed her eyes closed briefly. "I'm here, sweetie. I'm not going anywhere."

She lifted her head, her eyes shimmering, as she pushed a strand of her daughter's hair out of her face. "Can you forgive me," she asked in a quiet voice, "for hurting you both so badly?"

The younger woman smiled shyly, reminiscent of the twelve-year-old she had once been. "I've missed you, Claire."

"I've missed you too, Sherry." Claire kept an arm around her as she stepped back, her misty blue gaze going to Leon. She reached out and grasped his hand, smiling grimly at the confused look in his oh-so-blue eyes. "I owe you an apology, too."

Leon looked down at the slender hand wrapped around his and slowly shook his head. "You don't owe me anything," he denied, his voice raspy despite his best efforts. "It's enough that you're here for Sherry, now."

Claire's eyes narrowed slightly at his words. Was she too late? she asked herself as she dropped his hand. Had she waited too long, hurt Leon so much, that he'd stopped finally loving her?

"I'd hoped we could talk," she said quietly, unable to hide her disappointment. "I can understand why you wouldn't want to, but—"

"It's okay," Leon cut in quickly, not wanting Sherry to hear the details of their earlier confrontation. "Why don't you spend some time with Sherry, and we can talk when you're through."

She hesitated, the fear Ada's visit had stirred in her at odds with her need to make amends to her daughter. "I had a visitor today," she said finally, training her eyes on his. "We need to discuss what she told me."

Fear flashed through his too-blue eyes, and then was gone, replaced by the hardness she was quickly learning to hate. "Sherry, would you mind?" he asked in a neutral voice.

Sherry shook her head, scattering her long blond hair, her eyes wide as she realized just who it was that had visited Claire. "I can wait, Leon. We have time, right, Claire?"

"All the time in the world," Claire told her with a smile. "Give me a little while with your father, and then you can tell me all about your new boyfriend."

Instead of the blush she'd been expecting, Sherry slanted a wicked smile over her shoulder at the man in question. "You hear that, Luis?" she said in a purr. "My mother wants to hear _all_ about you."

Luis' eyes widened as he took an involuntary step back. "Sherry, _nena_, you wouldn't!"

Sherry laughed and sauntered over to him, putting arms around his neck. "I could probably be talked out of it," she told him a slow, suggestive drawl. "Do you think you're up to it?"

Jack began to laugh at the Spaniard's horrified expression. "You'd better go easy on him, kid. He looks like he's about to have a coronary."

Leon laughed with him, shocking Claire with his lack of concern. "I think he'll survive, Jack," he said in his driest voice. He touched Claire's arm, his smile dimming slightly. "Come on. We can talk upstairs."

She nodded, tearing her eyes away from the man Sherry was currently plastered to. She followed inside, her eyes taking in every nuance of the home Leon had made for himself. The furniture was a little on the sparse side, but she knew from talking with Rebecca that most of his money had gone on the house, and the business he was starting. Other than that, the house was clean and obviously well-cared for. He had a home now, and she could only imagine just how much that meant to him.

He led her up the stairs and into what was obviously his bedroom. She tensed up as he closed the door behind them, but Leon didn't attempt to touch her. He went straight to the computer desk at the far side of the room and rolled the chair close to the bed.

"Have a seat," he told her, sitting on the edge of the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and watched with veiled eyes as she seated herself. "Did she threaten you?" he asked without preamble.

Claire looked down at him from her slightly higher vantage point and shook her head. "Not really," she answered with a shrug. "She said she wanted to meet the woman you. . .She wanted to make a deal with me."

Leon drew a deep breath, the only outward sign of his fear. "What kind of deal?" he forced himself to ask calmly.

"An exchange," she answered, blushing a little. "Safety for all of S.T.A.R.S. from the HMC. In return, she wanted me to come to you and fix things between us."

"_Shit."_ Leon bowed his head, rubbing the sudden ache behind his eyes. "I should've known that taking out Wesker wouldn't be enough. When they accepted my resignation, I really thought it was over."

"She said that there would always be another scientist eager to take Wesker's place and continue Umbrella's work." Claire paused, and then slowly reached down to take his hand. "She was beautiful, Leon. Exotic, even."

Leon laughed, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. "Not beautiful enough," he said with obvious bitterness.

He withdrew his hand and stood, stalking over to the window. "I'll talk to her," he said abruptly, throwing the window open for some much-needed air. "You don't have to sacrifice yourself for S.T.A.R.S., or anybody else. I'll get her to back off."

"Sacrifice?" Claire surged to her feet, doing her best to control the famous Redfield temper. "Since when has being with you been a sacrifice?"

"Since you stopped looking for me!" he snapped, unable to help himself. He whirled around, nailing her with a hot glare. "Ada told me when your inquiries stopped, Claire. I didn't believe her, so I looked into it on my own. Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

Claire was shocked by his sudden change in mood, much as she had been the first time she'd seen his temper. "Yeah? And what the hell was this?" She pulled the little black wallet out of her waist pack and marched over to him.

"You send some anonymous man to my front door, with your damned R.P.D. badge, and no message for me?" She shoved it into his hands, her own expression showing fury. "He told me that you wanted me to have it, and then he walked away without answering any of my questions. How dare you break up with me that way!"

"I wasn't breaking up with you!" he hollered, shoving the badge back at her. "I sent Ark to you so that you would know I hadn't forgotten you. I was _waiting_ for you, Claire! Why the hell didn't you come for me? Why was it so damned easy for you to leave me behind?"

"You think it was easy for me?" Claire felt tears gather in her eyes and quickly blinked them back. "I spent ten months looking for you, and just when I was getting close, you sent me that damned badge. I thought you were trying to leave Raccoon City behind you, and everything that went with it—including me!"

"Never," he stated, his voice suddenly flat. "You and Sherry were my world. Everything I've done, I've done for the two of you."

Claire turned away as tears escaped her tightly-closed lids. "Why didn't Ark have a message for me?" she asked huskily, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Why didn't he tell me that you loved me, or that you missed me, or even that you hated me? Why, Leon?"

"I thought that the badge would be enough," Leon said quietly, setting his hands hesitantly on her slender shoulders. "It was _me_, Claire. That badge represented everything I'd always believed in, everything that I was. I thought you'd understand that, and come for me."

"Oh, God." Claire leaned back against him, drawing strength from his very presence. "You must have hated me when you learned that I'd stopped looking."

Leon shuddered at the contact and folded his arms around her. "I could never hate you, Claire," he told her with quiet honesty. "It hurt like hell, but I thought I understood. After all the horrible things I'd said to you the night you left for France, I was humbled that you'd looked for me at all."

"Leon. . ." Her words ended on a sigh as she wiped her tears away and turned around. She raised her hands to his battered face, her bright blue eyes darkening with emotion. "I should have waited for you. I shouldn't have taken off without telling you exactly how much you meant to me. There are so many things that I wish I'd done differently."

His smile was crooked as he pulled her into a hug. "It's alright, Claire," he told her unevenly. "I wouldn't trade the time I spent with you for anything. I have never been as happy as I was those three months with you, and I never expect to be again. I did love you, Claire. You'll never know how much."

Claire closed her eyes, laying her head on his shoulder. "I've missed you, Leon."

"I've missed you, too," Leon returned, thinking that she would never know just how big an understatement those words were. "I want to apologize about today, Claire."

"No," she told him firmly, raising her head. "Chris told me what happened, and I'm the one who's sorry."

"Claire—"

"I didn't mean any of those things I said," she cut in urgently. "I was hurt because you hadn't come to see me, and I wanted to hurt you in return. My God, Leon, I pulled my gun on you!"

"Don't, honey." Leon pressed a kiss to the smooth skin of her forehead and stepped back. "You had every right to be angry with me. After Barry and Steve—"

"Stop right there." Claire's brilliant blue eyes narrowed on him menacingly. "You are _not _ responsible for their deaths. I've read your report, Leon. I know how Steve got wounded, and it wasn't your fault."

"It should have been me," he argued in a weary voice. "I should have insisted on going with them. I should never have sent them into that city alone."

She shuddered at the thought of Leon suffering Steve's fate, especially since he'd confessed to having nightmares of being turned into one of the undead. "Leon, don't—"

"Steve was my responsibility, Claire. I told you I'd keep him safe. I failed you," Leon said miserably.

Claire inhaled sharply as she saw the depression that Ada Wong had so casually mentioned. Leon wasn't nearly as calm as he'd first appeared. He was drowning in guilt over events he could neither have controlled or changed. The eight years he'd spent as a virtual prisoner had done more damage than she had ever imagined.

"Why don't you blame S.T.A.R.S.?" she asked him, her eyes searching his for any nuance of reaction. "We were the ones who let you go off on your own, without one word of protest. Didn't it ever occur to you that if we'd stayed together, Steve would still be alive?"

"Yes, it's occurred to me," Leon said on a heavy sigh. "Believe me, as soon as the gates closed behind us, I was regretting my decision to split the groups up. If those doors hadn't been locked, I would've gone back to you and begged you to accept us. I would've personally taken responsibility for Steve, and whatever might happen had he transformed after that. I would have done anything to spare you and Sherry his death."

"Son of a bitch!" Claire swore softly. Ada Wong wasn't the only one who believed that she had been in love with Steve. "I didn't love him, Leon. Not like that."

He flashed her an achingly sad smile. "You don't have to spare my feelings, Claire."

"I'm not," she told him urgently. "I liked Steve. He was a good kid. I felt responsible for his death on Rockfort Island, but I was never in love with him. How could I be, when I was in love with _you_?"

He ducked his head in the endearing gesture she remembered so well, his blond hair falling to shield his eyes, and Claire felt like screaming in frustration. He was hiding from her again, damn him! He withheld so much of himself now, unlike the painfully honest young man she'd once known. How was she ever going to reach him?

Claire reached out and took his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. "I was completely and totally in love with you, Leon S. Kennedy."

She said this so fiercely that Leon couldn't help but smile. "Were you?" he asked, utterly serious now as he remembered her brother's words, and the hope they'd given him so briefly. "After you left, I'd wondered if your feelings for me weren't merely a by-product of our shared nightmare in Raccoon."

"Leon, no!" she cried, throwing her arms around him and hanging on tight. "Damn you, don't ever say that, again! What I felt for you was real!"

Leon clutched her to him, desperately wanting to believe her words. "Then, why did you leave me behind?" he asked, knowing how revealing the question was but unable to stop himself. "I would have done anything for you, Claire. You were my world. Why didn't you wait for me?"

"I made a mistake," Claire told him, terrified that he wouldn't believe her, and that he would walk away. "If I'd known that I would lose you, I wouldn't have gone to Europe. I would have waited until you'd made enough money to go with me. The last thing I wanted was to lose you and Sherry. You were part of my family, too."

He shuddered violently and buried his face against her slender neck. "I nearly went crazy waiting for you," he whispered, his arms tightening around her convulsively. "After they took Sherry away, my memories of you were all I had. They were the one thing Ada couldn't take away from me, no matter how hard she tried."

"Oh, Leon." Claire held him to her, running her hands over his hair, across his shoulders. He trembled against her, his heart thundering between them, and she shook in return. "I know that I hurt you, and that I let you down, but I'm here now. Would you be willing to give me another chance?"

He froze, certain he had misunderstood her. "Claire?" he questioned, lifting his head hesitantly.

"You said that you loved me," Claire whispered, her heart in her throat. "During that damned gauntlet, you said that you'd always loved me. Did you mean it, Leon? Do you still love me, even after all I've done?"

"I never stopped," he confessed in a whisper. He raised one trembling hand to her face, hope and dread battling for possession of his heart. "What about you, Claire? Is it guilt that sent you to me? Pity, maybe? Fear for your brother, and the rest of S.T.A.R.S.? Or do you—"

He broke off, unable to ask the question that mattered to him the most. If she told him no, his world would end. He knew himself well enough to know that. He could exist without Claire Redfield, but he couldn't truly live without her. If she rejected him now, it would finish him.

Claire's chest tightened at the bleak look that stole into his beautiful blue eyes. "I came here today because I love you," she told him passionately. "Eight years apart is long enough, Leon. Please, let me back into your life. Forgive me for leaving you the way that I did."

Leon blinked rapidly as her image blurred. God, didn't she know he'd forgive her anything? "Claire—" his voice broke as nearly eight years of pain and longing came rushing to the surface. He hauled her into his arms, crushing her body against his as his mouth found hers.

His head spun as she responded to his kiss. Her arms encircled his waist, her soft body pressing against his own, her delicate hands clutching eagerly at his back. He groaned and deepened the embrace, his mouth moving over hers with increasing hunger. She tightened her hold and took a step back, dragging her with him as she backpedaled towards the bed.

He laughed breathlessly as he raised his head. "God, how did I ever survive eight years without you?" he murmured, half to himself.

Claire smiled as she reached up and dragged the scrunchie out of her hair. "The same way I did," she said softly, shaking her hair until if fell in a fiery mass around her shoulders. "Half-alive and wholly miserable."

Leon tunneled his fingers through the soft mass and tilted her face up to his. "I love you, Claire Redfield. You'll never know how much."

"I love you, too, Leon." Claire's smile widened as she gasped the front of his shirt and pulled him down to the bed with her. "Now, shut up and kiss me, again. We've got a lot of time to make up for."

Leon laughed as he lowered his body to hers, the happy sound ringing through the room. "Yes, ma'am!"

* * *

Ada crouched on a hilltop three houses away, her binoculars trained on the open window of Leon's bedroom. A small device that fitted discreetly in her right ear provided the sounds to accompany the scene playing out before her. She watched as Leon lost his temper with a small smile. The Redfield bitch might be surprised, but she wasn't. God knew, she'd had that volatile temper turned on her many times, no matter how hard Leon had tried to control it. Yes, he was a genuinely good person, one of the nicest she'd ever known, but he was still a _man_. Why people equated niceness with weakness, she would never know.

Now, Claire was trying to convince him that she hadn't loved Burnside. Poor Leon, Ada thought with a rush of sympathy. He had always been so insecure when it came to the girl's love for him. It was the reason she herself had never him told about Steve, and his presence on Rockfort Island. It would have killed something in Leon to discover that the woman he loved had met someone else so soon after leaving _him_.

And she was relieved that Leon's wife hadn't been taken in by the boy's selfish desire for her. Had Claire Redfield spurned Leon for the younger man, Ada would have killed her herself. It would have slow and unbelievably painful, and Ada would have enjoyed every second of it.

She watched Leon grab the younger woman and kiss her passionately, and Ada had had enough. She tucked the binoculars away, working hard to ignore the pain tightening her chest. A few moments later, she heard them exchange vows of love, and the creak of bedsprings. She drew the receiver out of her ear with a silent curse, but couldn't escape the sound of Leon's laughter. It rang out through the open window, and she smiled despite the tears that were threatening to fall.

"Are you all right, my dear?"

She felt a hand on her shoulder and shrugged it off. "I'm fine," she said shortly, blinking the tears away. "I thought you were going to wait back at the hotel?"

"I wanted to see how our Mr. Kennedy had turned out." A tall, thin man hunkered down beside her, his black trench coat flaring out around him. "He is doing much better than I had expected after our last conversation. I believe you may have underestimated him, Ada."

"It was close," Ada said, turning to face him fully. "If I hadn't gone to the Redfield bitch, he might not have survived. He was trying, but you can't battle something like that alone."

"We did," he pointed out, a sparkle in his dark eyes.

She snorted inelegantly. "And look how we turned out."

"We did the best that we could, my dear. Were we not instrumental in forcing Umbrella to go underground?" He brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his Armani suit and rose to his feet. He extended his hand to her, smiling slightly at her expression of distaste, and helped her to her feet. "We are almost there, Ada. Soon enough, they will pay for all they have taken from us."

"And then, what?" Ada looked over her shoulder, her eyes on the house that held both the man she loved, and the daughter she'd never have. "After we've destroyed Umbrella, and their collaboration with The Agency, what will we do?"

His smile hardened. "We will watch them fall into disgrace and despair, and one by one, we will watch them take their own lives."

She smiled a little at that. "And those that do not?" she questioned silkily.

"Those who are not smart enough to end their own misery will be yours."

Ada tilted her head, her midnight eyes meeting his dark ones. "What do you think our father would say if he could see us, now?"

"I think that he would be properly horrified," the dark man replied wryly. "I do wish I could've met your mother, Ada. She must have been quite a woman to tear my father away from my mother _and _his work, even if only for a short time."

"She was," Ada responded in a quiet voice. "And I would have liked to meet James Darius myself, to see just why his death devastated my mother so badly."

"Aren't we a pair?" he said, his voice soft. "Both of us longing for we can never have."

"The life that Umbrella has stolen from us." She glanced behind her one last time, thinking absently that she'd have to remove the bugs she'd planted soon, before Leon found them. "I wish that things had turned out differently, Trent—for both of us."

"As do I, my dear. As do I."

* * *

Leon awoke to the feel of a sleek, feminine body pressed against his own. He felt a momentary sense of panic before the memories of his reunion with Claire came rushing back. He smiled slowly and ran a hand over the thigh thrown across his own. She stirred against him, her own hands coming up tangle in his hair.

"Good morning," Claire purred, pressing her lips to his throat.

"That it is." Leon hugged her to him, one hand coming up to cup the back of her head. He felt the sharp edge of her teeth and groaned deeply. "God, that feels good!"

She laughed wickedly as she raised her head. "So, have you given any thought to my proposal?"

His breath caught at the glint in her brilliant blue eyes. "I don't think I'm ready to join S.T.A.R.S., honey. I have my own business to run, remember?"

"Ah, come on, Leon." Claire pressed her lips to his own. "Think of how fun it would be, kicking ass together, just like the old days."

"Yeah, _that's_ gonna convince me," Leon said dryly. "I'm my own man now, Claire. I don't take orders from anybody, and Chris is definitely head honcho down at S.T.A.R.S. headquarters. It just wouldn't work."

She sighed, pushing her bottom lip out. "Leon. . ."

He gave into temptation and kissed her thoroughly. "I love you, honey, but I have to stand my ground one this one."

"But you'll be traveling all the time," Claire said in a quiet voice, "and S.T.A.R.S. is always going out-of-state on missions. We'll never get to see each other."

"Yes, we will." Leon rose up on one elbow, cradling her face in a loving hand. "I spent eight years without you, Claire. I won't let anything keep us apart. You can come with me sometimes, when you're not on duty, and I'll travel with you whenever I can."

Her lips curved into a hopeful smile. "You mean it, Leon?"

"I mean it, honey." He brushed his lips across hers in the softest of caresses. "Someday, you're going to marry me, Claire Redfield. I plan to spend every waking moment with you until you say yes."

Claire raised one fiery brow. "And after I say yes?" she asked haughtily.

"I'll dedicate all of my time and energy to knocking you up," Leon grinned, splaying his hand possessively over her stomach. "I can't wait to get you pregnant, Claire. I want a little girl just like you."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "I want a boy," she stated, just for the sake of argument.

Leon laughed, happier than he could ever remember being. "You've got to marry me first, honey."

"I'm thinking about it," Claire told him, her voice husky as she snuggled closer. "Are you sure you don't mind waiting to get married?" she asked, as she had several times during the night.

"I'm sure," Leon assured her with a happy smile. "It's enough to be here with you, like this, knowing that you really do love me."

"I do, Leon." Claire closed her eyes as he stroked her hair. "That feels so good. Do you think that Sherry will be angry that I spent the night with you, instead of talking to her?"

Leon thought that over before shaking his head. "Sherry knows how much being with you means to me, Claire. She's probably waiting for us to get up so she can tease us about last night."

"Oh, God!" Claire exclaimed, her eyes popping open. "I hadn't even thought of that. There are three other people in the house. I wonder if they heard us?"

He merely laughed and pulled her beneath him. "Who cares?" he said, nuzzling her neck as he spoke. "And Hunnigan's living here too, now. Though I really don't think she'll say anything. Jack and Sherry are the ones to watch out for."

Claire frowned and pushed on his shoulders until he raised his head. "You've got another woman living with you?" she asked, her eyes snapping with blue fire. "Since when?"

Leon's own eyes widened at the anger in her musical voice. "She got here yesterday," he said cautiously, trying to pinpoint the source of her anger. "She lost her job when the HMC was shut down. She's going to invest in the business, become a partner. She'll be staying here until we make enough for her to get her own place."

She dragged the sheet over her, crossing her arms over her chest to keep it in place. "And just how long will that take?" she threw out angrily.

"I'm not sure." He sat up slowly, trying not to smile as he realized why she was so angry. "Hunnigan's a friend, Claire. Nothing more."

Claire sniffed, her eyes narrowing on his. "And you've never been interested in her?" she asked with skepticism. "I remember her, Leon. She's gorgeous."

Leon shrugged, unable to lie to her. "I asked for her number once," he said on a sigh. "It was right after I'd escaped from the Los Illuminados. I asked more to make a point with Ashley Graham than anything else. Ashley asked me to work some 'overtime' for her when we got back. It was all I could think of at the time. Hunnigan understood, and accepted my apology later."

"I'll bet, she did," Claire scowled. "So, you never went out with her?"

"I never went out with anyone, Claire." At her disbelieving look, he sighed again and explained, "I didn't want anyone but you. Even if I had, Ada would have killed whoever I chose. I couldn't take that kind chance with someone else's life."

Claire gaped at him as she realized just what he was telling her. "You spent the last eight years completely alone?" she asked, incredulous. "What about sex?"

"I definitely missed that," Leon said with a dry smile. He reached out and ran his knuckles over the soft skin of her cheek. "You were worth waiting for, Claire."

"Jesus, Leon!" She thought of the four guys she'd had sex with since losing him and cringed inwardly. And he knew, she realized, seeing the truth in the depths of his bright blue eyes.

His smile changed, turning sad, even as he leaned forward to kiss her. "I'm glad you weren't completely alone, honey. I hope they made you happy, even if only for a little while."

"They weren't you," she whispered, tears gathering in her brilliant eyes.

Leon inhaled sharply, gathering her close. "You don't owe me any explanations," he told her solemnly. "You thought I'd left you. You were free to do whatever you wanted. It's not your fault I was too scared to come to S.T.A.R.S. for help."

She was shaking her head negatively, her expression anguished. "I used to measure all of boyfriends against my brother," she whispered thickly. "After you left, I only dated men that reminded me of you. Everyone noticed. Even Carlos teased me about my blond boyfriends, and Chris offered to hunt you down and kill you for me."

"Claire. . ." his voice trailed off as he realized just how much he had hurt her. "I never meant to hurt you. I was just so afraid. I couldn't chance your safety by going after Sherry, and I couldn't risk hers by going to you. I wish I'd been braver, honey. If I'd gone to S.T.A.R.S., things might have turned out differently. I just don't know anymore."

"You did the best you could," she told him, knowing how much it went against his cautious nature to take risks. "If it had been me—"

"You would've shown up, guns blazing, and to hell with the risks," Leon cut in with evident admiration. "I always loved that about you, Claire. You were so impulsive, ready to tackle any situation, no matter what the consequences. I wish I had a little of your spark. Maybe, we wouldn't have spent the last eight years apart."

"It doesn't matter, now," Claire told him firmly. "We're together now, Leon. That's _all_ that matters."

Leon grinned, glad to see the tears gone. "Then, you'll be the one to explain to your brother why we're not getting married right away?" he asked hopefully. "I don't think my body can take another brawl with Chris Redfield."

"You got it, baby." Claire let the sheet fall and pulled him down to her. "No more talking, Kennedy. We need lots of practice if we're ever going to have that kid."

"You got it, Redfield!"

_Fin._


End file.
